


Decree

by Unplumbed



Category: Overlord - Maruyama Kugane & Related Fandoms
Genre: Betrayal, Death, F/M, Invasion, Murder, Tragedy, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unplumbed/pseuds/Unplumbed
Summary: The return of the old gods is inevitable, owing to a centuries-long resurrection cycle. The first wave of returning players are about to make landfall, and the newly-transported Nazarick's war of annihilation against the players who once ruled the land will soon begin.
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is cross-posted on FFN.

**Prologue**

Falling.

He was falling before the thunderclap reached his ears. He descended in a column of superheated air, body spinning. His opponents shrank with distance as he descended the stratosphere. The people of the Theocracy watched as the speck of black clothes fell from the heavens at speeds the unaided eye struggled to see. Powerful as he was, this was a battle that the god could not win.

~ _A whole new world of pain_ ~

There was no grand entrance. No grand fireball of hypersonic re-entry as he came within sight. The rain had made sure of that.

He lay in the field, unceremoniously, his rags black with dirt, and did not get back up. The storm raged and bellowed on around the battleground, and lightning flashed and arced and the wind howled as though they were announcing a departure from the world of men and monsters, and the people of the Theocracy feared that he was dead.

Eight figures landed softly on the field, fifty meters away from the fallen god. Rain poured out of the sky in thick sheets. A violent gale ripped across the field, and all who watched covered their eyes and braced themselves as the rain was driven painfully onto exposed skin. The grandeur of their being, the terror of the battleground, and the wretchedness of it all had robbed them all of their tongues.

The eight figures were all human. There was no denying that. [Sense Race] was a spell of the eighth tier that detected the race of a target. He had used it on them the first time they'd met in the unsuccessful diplomatic meeting. Their leader wore a suit of crimson full-plate armor. It was a divine class item, and so was the staff that he held in his right hand. He saw the emblem emblazoned in gold across the beautiful Apoithakarah crystals embedded in his ornate pauldrons, but did not recognize it.

He did not want to think of YGGDRASIL anymore.

"It did not have to come to this," said the leader. "You should have agreed with us."

There was no reply.

"[Penetrate Maximize Magic: Albedic Lance]!"

That was the deathblow.

[Albedic Lance] was a tenth-tier holy spell used by divine magic casters. It summoned a white-hot lance of blinding light that vaporized all that it touched. The holy property made it even more damaging to the undead. He had since the spell in action dozens of times now, both in this life and the life before. In terms of base damage, it was one of the most generally potent spells, exceeding even a [Reality Slash], and it was possible to one-shot an Overlord with the appropriate gear and metamagic enhancements using the spell. It had a long cast time, which meant that it was not used very often, but the invaders had expected him to be so utterly robbed of his strength that even getting up would be nearly impossible.

He knew he'd die here today. His HP was already three-quarters below the maximum, and he had near completely exhausted his MP.

He wondered what awaited him on the other side. Decades had passed since his friends had left him. Loneliness was not the only word that could describe how he felt. Perhaps he was suicidal. That would explain why he came down here in the first place. But it was impossible to bypass the racial emotional nullifier that all undead possessed. Such strong pangs of emotion would surely be detected, would they not?

Decades of solitude had taken its toll. He wanted this all to end. The war had reached the doorstep of the Slane Theocracy, and when his advisors had tried to prevent him from taking up the challenge issued by the invaders, he paid them no heed. The voices of his subjects had no meaning to him anymore. He could never agree with Phantasmagoria's policies towards demi-humans and humans, and the disagreements between him and the guild had snowballed into total war. If he could destroy their leader, Uriah, then the order in their party could be crippled.

They were new to these lands, freshly plucked from the world of 2138, new to the godhood they had attained in the blink of an eye, and eager to mould the world in the shape of their pent-up philosophies.

But that plan had failed, and a life of misery and regret was coming to a close. Of course, he had never expected the plan to work in the first place. A single Level 100 would be utterly destroyed in a fight against eight others with no hope of damaging one of its opponents.

His pleas for the banning of the national religion fell on deaf ears, and it soon grew into something far beyond their control. The Slane Theocracy had expanded far beyond its original boundaries, conquering the nearby human nations in the name of his friends. It was the last thing that he'd wanted, but religion had been the bedrock to which the soul of the Slane Theocracy – and the majority of their influence and 'soft' power – was tethered.

Or so his friends had thought.

But it did not matter now. Nothing did. He would soon be returned to his friends, and this nightmare would soon be over.

Emotions ran freely as his limiter was finally overridden. The man could hear the voices of his friends calling out across the blasted field, carried by the death-winds over the distant hills. Nonexistent tears streaked down the length of his cheeks, and at last he was at peace.

_My friends…I can't wait to meet you soon! Wait for me!_

As he looked around for the last time, regret – no, it probably could not have registered as such, but regret was the best it could be defined – filled his mind as the architecture of the Theocracy entered his vision.

_But truly…what had it all been for in the end?_

Light was, and Surshanna knew no more.


	2. The Beginning and the End

IN THE CENTER of the room sat a massive circular table. It shone with an obsidian gleam. Around the table were forty-one magnificent seats, but many of them were empty.

Only three figures remained in the room.

One wore an intricate black academic gown with gold and purple trimmings. Beneath the hood, one might have expected to see a human face, following the rest of its humanoid figure, but staring out was a fleshless skull, and reddish-black flames burned where one's eyes would be. If one looked closely, they could see bones through the Something resembling a halo flared behind him, only this time it was resplendent in darkness.

Oddly enough, the two other figures in the room weren't affected in the slightest by the aura of dread that the avatar of death emanated.

Neither were human.

The first was an amorphous blob of liquid, denser and darker than coal tar. Its surface shifted constantly, and it had neither eyes nor mouth. Neither did it wear any clothes nor hold any items. From a distance it might have looked friendly, or even cute, but this was a Level 100 Elder Black Ooze, one of the most powerful heteromorphs in YGGDRASIL, and the acids it produced could corrode

The other was a tall and sleek humanoid figure. His hair was long and raven-black, and his arms seemed slightly longer than what would be proportionate for the figure's dimensions. His skin was deathly pale, and the creature's torso and legs were enclosed in a suit of crimson full-plate armour. His thin, hard-angled face was exposed, and his unmoving black eyes gave off the impression that he was in a world of his own. A pair of leathery wings sprouted from his back, indicating his lack of humanity.

"Ethel-san? Are you still awake?"

Tired laughter came from the figure seated directly ahead of him. Endou Rin snapped back to reality as he heard the voice of his guildmate, Suzuki Satoru. The immense fatigue he felt was enough to make him zone out every thirty seconds or so.

"Yes -yawn- I'm just so -yawn- tired," said Rin slowly. "I'm so sorry, but I had to take paid leave to come back early."

"Gee, you didn't have to go so far for us, Ethel-Red-san," said Hayashi Hironobu, whose avatar was the Elder Black Ooze. He sounded pretty lifeless too.

"Yeah, your health is always more important than a game," chimed in Satoru.

Rin could tell that their voices, like his, were tired. Hironobu's was exhausted, and even that would be an understatement.

"What about you, Herohero-san? How are you holding up over there?" asked Rin.

"Honestly, my health is in tatters. Not enough to visit the doctor, but very close. I feel like how my avatar looks, to be honest," said Hironobu.

"Same here," said Satoru. He chuckled at his lame joke. "Or at least, I'll look like this if I continue working."

The statement hung in the air for a second as it was processed before a round of laughter erupted from around the table.

"Sorry for killing the mood," said Rin.

"Same here," said Hironobu.

"N-No, it's alright. To be honest, I really felt like ranting about that hundred-and-ten-hour workweek I had last week. You guys really spoke my mind," admitted Satoru. "So, what are your plans?"

"Well, I came here to stay till the end, just like you proposed, didn't I?" said Rin.

"I'm really grateful. What about you, Herohero-san?"

"I'm not really sure. I feel like my body's about to break down at any moment now," said Hironobu. "Though I am curious to see what would happen at the end…maybe some end credits? Err…or even a redeemable item code for a limited-edition YGGDRASIL 2 item…for those who stayed until the end, I mean," said Hironobu. "Probably some sort of surprise."

"I haven't heard any rumours of a sequel, but if it does come out, let's definitely play together!" said Satoru excitedly.

"Count me in as well!" said Rin, and Hironobu gave a smiling emoticon.

"Sure thing. I guess I'll just see how long I can stay for," said Hironobu. "Hopefully I don't fall asleep midway."

"Great!"

Beneath the VR helmet, Hayashi Hironobu smiled a bit.

* * *

**Throne Room, 10th Floor of the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick**

"So, you're going out of the Tomb?" asked Satoru.

"Well, not really. I'm just going to the 6th-floor Amphitheater to look at the scenery, and I'll return to the Throne Room in a while, before the forced logout," explained Rin. "Well then, see you!"

The demon left the room in quick, broad strides, and the Throne of Kings detected teleportation activity in Lemegeton.

Suzuki Satoru glanced at the inbuilt clock in the YGGDRASIL interface.

23:25:39, 40, 41…

It had been two hours since he logged in, but somehow it only felt like thirty minutes had passed.

"Time sure passes when you're having fun, huh," he muttered.

"What?" came Hironobu's voice.

"Nothing, just saw the time," said Satoru.

"Damn, it's eleven p.m. already," said Hironobu. "I have to wake up at three a.m. tomorrow -yawn-."

"I hope I'm not causing you any trouble, Herohero-san," said Satoru.

"No, not at all," replied his friend. "Thanks for inviting me here."

Satoru glanced around him.

"Ah yes, there's something I forgot about," he said, turning. In the direction he faced, a golden staff levitated in a walled niche.

"The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown," said Hironobu. "What do you plan on doing with it?"

The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown was a deadly amalgamation of seven intertwined golden snakes. It was based on the god Hermes' staff _Caduceus_ , and it stored a truly immense quantity of data. Each snake held a brilliant jewel in its mouth, and each snake held a jewel that was of a different colour than the next.

Satoru held an outstretched arm and willed the Staff to move. It floated towards his open palm, and Satoru clasped the handle in his bony fingers. In the corner of his eye, the Overlord saw several numbers pop up, indicating immense stat increases. A reddish-black aura flared from the Staff in response to the Overlord's touch. Now, he truly looked like the guild master of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"It's a shame that we put so much effort into this, just to leave it collecting dust here," muttered Satoru. "Poor guy never saw the light of day."

"You have an odd way of describing items, Momonga-san," remarked Hironobu.

"Well, it does have a complex AI that allows it to make decisions and follow a computer-generated travel route, so theoretically it should be able to attack enemies on its own…like an NPC," said Satoru.

"Well, that's true," admitted Hironobu. He had been one of the ones who designed the staff's program. "If you like, there's no harm in taking it for a walk on the last day…"

Hironobu gazed at the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. It had been designed by one of Nazarick's illustrators, and it was only through years of grinding through the immense crafting trees of its constituent materials and spending hundreds of thousands of yen that the Staff could be constructed. In terms of strength, it was well beyond a divine class item and was on par with a World Item.

"I could bring you on a tour of the floors if you want me to…" offered Satoru.

"T-That's very generous of you, Momonga-san, but considering the amount of stuff we built, well, I think we only have time for the tenth floor," said Hironobu. "Sorry."

"Then follow me," said Satoru. He activated the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown and disappeared in dramatic fashion, leaving Hironobu in the Round Table Room.

"I don't know how he has so much energy, even though we have pretty much the same work schedule," muttered Hironobu enviously.

As he glanced around the room, Hironobu recalled one of the largest and arguably the most memorable meetings that had ever occurred. That was many years ago, at the zenith of Ainz Ooal Gown's powers, when the Great Tomb of Nazarick took on an alliance consisting of 8 guilds, 1500 players and mercenary NPCs in one of the most epic battles in YGGDRASIL's history — and won. Notwithstanding the fact that it was a decisive victory, none of the guild members had to do anything. They had merely watched the battle unfold across the floors using the Tomb's surveillance system.

Hironobu chuckled. The incident was even featured on a minor newspaper, and for days content related to the raid was featured on the YGGDRASIL front page of the immensely popular video streaming site YouTube, which was owned by the 139-year-old Megacorp known as Google. After the raid, Ainz Ooal Gown's ranking had been propelled into the top 10, and the rest was history.

\+ Herohero-san, are you there? +

A voice played in Hironobu's head. Satoru had used a [Message] spell, which basically established a voice chat link between the two players.

\+ Ah yes, sorry, Momonga-san, I was lost in thought. +

As a slime, Hironobu's avatar did not display the ring on its body when it was equipped in his accessory slot, unlike most other races — which could be an advantage in certain hairy situations. Hironobu activated the ring in his accessories slot by selecting a hotkey, targeting an area three meters away from the Overlord, and vanished in an explosion of azure light. His surroundings warped into the strange but oddly familiar sight of Lemegeton, the antechamber to the Throne Room.

Rich Ionian volutes decorated the enormous marble pillars supported the domed hall from all sides. It vaguely resembled some sort of omnidirectional lecture hall, notwithstanding the seventy-two ornate niches built into the walls and the obvious lack of a blackboard. Most of them each contained a single unique Golem of Lemegeton, but Herohero counted five empty niches.

"Luci*Fer got lazy designing the golems and gave up when there were sixty-seven, remember?" came a voice from behind him. Hironobu turned lazily and spotted his friend standing near the Gate of Judgement, on the far end of the massive hall.

Hironobu moved at a slow pace. He could definitely move much faster, especially in a combat situation, but he felt it fitting for a slime character to move slowly. Besides, his mind was way too tired to concentrate.

"Now that I think of it, I do, Momonga-san," said Hironobu. "But that was years ago, and now…"

"They're all gone," said Satoru.

The doors swung outwards slowly as Satoru remotely triggered the [Open] function.

The mood changed.

A 'wow' escaped Hironobu and Satoru's lips as their eyes fell upon the Throne Room. Although it was nothing but pixels, the exquisite craftsmanship of the room exerted a physical pressure on the two. Nothing ever built on Earth, at least, not in the state that it was in now, would even come close to the beauty of this room. Even so, the computer-generated proportions of this room achieved a mathematical perfection that could never be replicated by most tools in the real world, and yet was commonplace in YGGDRASIL

A hundred people could enter and there would still be space left over. The ceilings were so tall that they seemed to reach the heavens, and the walls were as white as silver and the ornamentation was done in gold.

The grand chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were made of fiery jewels that emitted a dreamy, sparkling light.

Forty-one flags hung from poles located between the ceiling and the floor, and each flag bore the emblem of one of the forty-one members of Ainz Ooal Gown.

And on the far opposite end of the Throne Room…

…was a World Item.

A short flight of ten stairs ascended the beautiful emeraldine pomp. At its top, carved out of a giant obsidian crystal, its back seemingly tall enough to reach the ceiling, was the Throne of Kings, a World Item rewarded to Ainz Ooal Gown after it conquered the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Behind it was a scarlet tapestry on which the crest of Ainz Ooal Gown was embroidered in precious metals.

"I can never get tired of this place, Momonga-san," said Hironobu.

"Neither do I," said the Guild Master. In all of YGGDRASIL, the craftsmanship and effort that went into designing and constructing the Throne Room were probably second to none.

"After all these years…I feel so nostalgic. And it's all standing thanks to you, Momonga-san," said Hironobu. A smiling emoticon appeared next to his avatar.

"Ah, you give me too much credit, Herohero-san," said Satoru embarrassedly, without a hint of false modesty, dismissing his friend's praise with a wave of a skeletal hand.

"After all, the base was designed to function without anyone controlling it."

"Still, you would really stay on until the end, even if nobody would come. This job really suited you, Momonga-san," said Hironobu.

The two approached the throne grandly, and Satoru noticed the female NPC standing next to the Throne.

"Hey, isn't that Albedo?" he asked unnecessarily, staring at the face of the world-class beauty that stood before him.

No, she wasn't merely a world-class beauty. Albedo was in a league of her own with some of the NPCs of Nazarick, beyond any woman that Earth had to offer. Her bodily proportions, like those of Nazarick's architecture, achieved a geometric perfection unseen in natural-born women on Earth.

"Oh, right! Tabula-san named a lot of stuff after alchemical jargon. Hermes Trismegistus, Albedo, Rubedo, Nigredo, his username, etcetera. But…that's a World Item in her inventory, right? What's it doing in there, Momonga-san?" asked Hironobu, eyeing the wand that she carried in her delicate silken-gloved hands. The wand-like object in question was about eighteen inches long, and a black orb seemingly levitated without any support at its tip.

"I'm not sure…I've not logged in for months. This item is called 'Ginnungagap', I think. As far as I'm aware of, it does a ton of AOE damage but apart from that and the usual World Item special features, it isn't really remarkable for a World Item. I guess Tabula-san just gave it to her without the Guild's permission. But she looks nice with it, and the game's about the end anyways, so I guess I'll just let this slip by," said Satoru.

"Sure thing. Speaking of which, where is Ethel-san? It's already eleven fifty-two," said Hironobu.

"Well, he hasn't logged out yet, and apparently…" Satoru sat on the throne and a yellow holographic screen popped up in front of him, displaying a complete view of the amphitheatre, "He's there at the amphitheatre alright, just watching the sky. Blue Planet-san really did a good job."

"If you ask me, he seems to be sleeping," said Hironobu.

The two chuckled. Rin stood motionlessly on the sands of the gladiator pit, and his back was faced to the 'camera'.

"Well, if he is really sleeping, should we wake him up?" asked Hironobu, glancing at the interface clock which read 23:54:01.

"I'll definitely feel guilty about it. Besides, I don't know if he's actually sleeping or not. Maybe he's just admiring the night sky, and since this is the last time that YGGDRASIL servers will be online, which probably means that it's his last time seeing such a beautiful sky, I don't want to disturb him," said Rin.

"But won't he be teleported to the Round Table Room if he's actually asleep?" asked Hironobu.

"True," said Satoru. "Then again, he's probably not asleep. I'm sure he'll teleport to Lemegeton before the shutdown."

* * *

**Amphitheatre, 6th floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick**

Rin found it difficult to think. Or rather, he was finding it difficult to concentrate on his thoughts. Just a few minutes ago, it had gotten to the point where his eyes were closed outside of the game, and now he was struggling to stay awake in the amphitheatre.

Many DMMO-RPGs such as YGGDRASIL had a way of detecting whether a player was asleep in real life. The nanomachines that made up the Neural-Nano Interface periodically collected information in the form of brainwaves and transmitted them to a sufficiently sophisticated game. As the brainwaves of a person differed in varying states of consciousness, such as when a person was asleep, it was possible for the game to differentiate a sleeping player from one who was awake after collecting and analyzing such information.

More specifically, it was possible for YGGDRASIL to find out if a player was sleeping in real life by detecting a spike in the quantity of PGO waves in the brain stem — brainwaves that were characteristic of a person's transition to REM sleep, or the sleep phase most commonly associated with dreaming and restfulness.

In the event that a player fell asleep while playing YGGDRASIL, their avatar would either be teleported to the last place where they had spawned or the nearest safe-zone. In Rin's case, he would be teleported to the Round Table Room, as per his settings.

Rin Glanced at the interface's clock with weary eyes. He could feel himself slipping away. He wondered if this could be the most sleep-deprived state a human could reach before passing out. He knew that the game had a way of forcibly teleporting a sleeping player to either the nearest safe zone or the location where they had last spawned and that he did not want to test its patience.

23:58:31, 22, 23…

_I'm going to be late, aren't I?_

With a remnant of his strength, he willed the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown into activation and targeted the Lemegeton of the Tenth Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick hastily.

There was a flash of azure light, and the avatar of Endou Rin disappeared.

* * *

**Throne Room, 10th Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick**

"Did he actually fall asleep?" asked Hironobu.

"Umu…No, the Throne has detected teleportation activity in Lemegeton. That should be him," said Satoru.

A sigh of relief escaped Hironobu's avatar.

The Gates of Judgement swung open grandly, and a solitary figure stepped within.

"Ethel-san, you made it!" called out Satoru.

23:59:01, 2, 3…

Rin hurried over to stand beside Satoru's Throne. Still, he could not help but feel the awe that subtly washed away his drowsiness as he looked around the hall. He had built this place with his teammates, a place that nobody outside of Ainz Ooal Gown could — and now, as he counted the moments that slipped by, that nobody _would_ — know the appearance of.

As he approached the stairs, Rin eyed the female NPC standing close by, or rather, the wand-like item that she clutched in her hands.

Rin heard the Guild-Master let out a heavy sigh.

"Are you alright, Momonga-san?" asked Rin.

For a moment, there was no reply. Satoru turned to face the demon.

"Sorry, Ethel-san, I was lost in thought. I can't stop remembering the good times I've had with the guild. All the happy memories I've had with you guys are flooding back in. There were forty-one of you, but now only three remain…well, I guess it can't be helped," muttered Satoru.

He paused. "They were forced to choose between reality and a daydream, after all."

The two other players nodded sadly in agreement.

23:59:40, 41, 42…

"You all were the best friends I ever had," said Satoru.

The silence was deafening in the Throne Room. Satoru emotions were evident in his voice. It was evident that Satoru was feeling rather down about the shutdown. No, even if the shutdown did not occur, it was clear that the remaining guildmates wouldn't magically reappear.

"T-That's very kind of you, Satoru-san," said Hironobu.

Satoru gazed at Rin, who stood wordlessly beside him. The figure nodded, its chin declining ever so slightly. Although he could not express it through his avatar, Suzuki Satoru smiled under his headset.

_And that's all that matters in this world._

23:59:50, 51, 52…

Satoru counted down with the clock, and the numbers echoed in his exhausted mind, and he finally closed his eyes in the real world as the ticking began.

Under his cowl of high-technology, Rin fancied he heard the grains of time run out.

Those were the last of his thoughts before he fell asleep.

23:59:57, 58, 59,

 _Here comes the blackout_ , thought Hironobu.

0:00:00

One,

Two,

Three…

It was still dark behind his eyelids.

"…What?"

Momonga opened his eyes immediately. He had expected to be greeted with the brightness of the neural-nano interface OS, but instead, he had not moved an inch from where he was seated just seconds ago.

That is, he was still seated upon the Throne of Kings in the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Momonga closed his eyes in disbelief.

_Is this a dream?_

He opened them again. He would have definitely been booted by now.

Then he closed his eyes again.

_Was the shutdown postponed?_

Momonga heard something fall, and the clattering of armour plates, but there was no crash. A feminine scream came from his right.

Then came some words.

"Lord Ethel-Red, are you hurt? Lord Ethel-Red? Lord?!"

It was the voice of the same woman. Her terror was extreme.

Momonga opened his eyes immediately. He could not believe what he saw.

Standing beneath the pomp was Albedo, who carried the avatar of Ethel-Red in her silk-gloved hands, rid of her mask of dignity and composure.

_No way, her mouth is moving!_

Countless possibilities raced through his mind as he attempted to switch on the communication channels. He tapped once. There was no response. His menu wouldn't come back on. Why were her movements so organic? Why was her mouth moving? How is she carrying him? What in the world is going on?

_Is this YGGDRASIL 2.0?_

Momonga glanced to his right. His blood froze. Standing before him was a writhing mass of a black, non-Newtonian fluid. At least, that was the most sense he could make out of what he was seeing.

"Herohero-san?"

"Momonga-san?" said the slime. It looked so lifelike, rid of the repetitive fluid animations that the game cycled through for slime characters.

"No way, is that really you, Hironobu-san?" asked Momonga, turning to face the avatar of Ethel-Red, who Albedo now carried in her arms, "If so…then that's…"

"My Lords, I beg you to help Lord Ethel!"

"W-What happened?" asked Herohero, casting the Overlord a sidelong look of apprehension.

"He's unconscious, Lord Herohero, but he's still breathing!" exclaimed Albedo.

Momonga stared at the NPC in shock.

_How is she forming complex sentences? Even if this is YGGDRASIL 2.0, such advanced AI technology couldn't possibly be commercialized! And how does she know that he's breathing?_

Momonga struggled to form a response.

_Act normal!_

"T-That's good to hear. Could you lay him on the floor, Albedo?" asked Momonga.

"At once, Lord Momonga," said Albedo. With extreme gentleness, she placed the slender body of the demon on the carpeted floor of the Throne Room and took made two steps back.

Carefully, the two players approached the body of their comrade, but Momonga had the sneaking suspicion that Ethel was merely asleep.

_Is this an advanced version of YGGDRASIL? Or has the game come to life? I can't seem to access my console or call a GM. What in the world is going on?_

If the game had truly come to life, then he would be able to do things that were previously impossible, such as smelling things from the game.

If that was the case, then the outcome was rather obvious. The Throne Room had a sickly-sweet smell, the smell of the expensive perfume that Suzuki's upper-class clients wore in his days as a salesman. He could no longer smell the familiar scent of his apartment room.

But if that would be nonsensical. If he had truly assumed the physical form of an undead being, it would be impossible to breathe, let alone stay alive.

Still — there was no doubt about it. Whatever it was — his disembodied consciousness, what was once called a 'soul' by ancient faiths and extinct religions, or something else — was now infused with the body of the Level 100 necromancer Momonga.

And if physical laws could be violated — as evidenced by his very existence — would it not stand to reason that the use of magic was possible?

Momonga paused. There was a familiar smell in the air. The smell of something burning, of putrid smoke and unburnt hydrocarbons. It was an odour that permeated every inch of the air around him. He sniffed the air again. Surprisingly, it was not particularly disgusting. Unlike the smell of rotting meat, this was a vastly more tolerable odour for Suzuki Satoru, more akin to being in close proximity to a smoker. He was used to this.

Herohero wasn't fazed by that either, but that was probably due to his absolute resistance to toxins and pathogens as an Elder Black Ooze, as well as the perpetually smoky air on Earth.

Is it possible that the air from the outside had entered the Tomb? Then, was the Tomb transported to Earth? But that would not explain why he had not smelled it before, at the throne. Plus, the odour-causing particles could not have diffused so quickly into the Throne Room. And finally, the Great Tomb of Nazarick's magical and mechanical circulation systems would have surely filtered out something so mundane and impotent.

Momonga noticed that the stench grew stronger as he moved closer to Ethel-Red's body. Was it due to his demonic heritage? If so, then Nazarick was about to become a very smelly place. But that didn't explain why Albedo did not smell the same as Ethel. She too had demon levels, didn't she? But then again, she was a succubus and having a bad body odour probably wasn't beneficial for her race, on an evolutionary level.

"I feel a pulse, Herohero-san," said Momonga after laying a skeletal finger on Ethel-Red's neck. "He's probably asleep."

The situation was becoming odder and odder by the moment. Feeling a player's pulse was never a detail implemented in YGGDRASIL.

Although the sense of touch in YGGDRASIL was severely limited, Momonga felt that his own was now far more sophisticated compared to how it was in the game — more so, perhaps, than his sense of touch in the real world. He could make out underneath his fingertips the smoothness of Ethel's skin and the silkiness of his long, raven-black hair. It wasn't just another textureless solid.

Herohero stared hard at the armoured body of the demon. If Ethel-Red was asleep now, did that mean that he fell asleep in the real world after the game came to life? That made sense, considering how tired he sounded. If so, it was possible that when his consciousness was implanted in the physical body of his avatar, it immediately went limp, just as how his previous body probably was. But wouldn't his current body be fully energized? Surely, as the need for sleep was purely biological in basis, Ethel-Red could not have passed out in this demonic form.

And what about himself? Herohero noticed that he suddenly felt more energized, which was probably due to the biological nature of his new body. It was well known to players that slimes, as per the game's trivia, had no need for rest. In the game, this translated to a nearly universal reduction of cooldowns for spells and skills for slimes. Along with the various resistances to toxins and the extremely high regeneration rate, slimes were one of the more popular heteromorphic races that players could choose from.

Was this why all his fatigue had seemingly disappeared?

But if the game had come to life, what about the Earth of 2138? The Great Tomb of Nazarick was still standing, obviously, so it was far more likely that the players themselves — or rather, their consciousness — had been transported to the nine realms of Yggdrasil as they appeared in the game, Helheim in his case, but there was also the possibility that the players, along with their guild bases, had been transported to the Earth of 2138.

Such questions could be answered later. There were more pressing concerns at the moment. If the game had truly come to life, it meant that other players — humans — had gained the powers and bodies of their in-game avatars. And if that was the case, then there was sure to be troublemakers around, eager to use their newfound powers. There would be anarchy, disputes over territory, or worse.

"Albedo, seek out Sebas and the Pleiades, and if they are still present, return with them," said Momonga, still surprised by how deep and confident his voice was when it came out. "Go now."

"It will be done, my Lord," said Albedo, who bowed and turned crisply, walking out of the Throne Room in quick but graceful strides across the soft carpet. The Gates of Judgement drew open and slammed shut as they had done thousands time before, and the two players heaved a silent sigh of relief.

"She's…so beautiful, Momonga-san," said Herohero. "She's really Tabula-san's masterpiece."

"Oh come on, is that all you can think of now?" said Momonga. "We're trapped in a freaking game, for crying out loud!"

"Well, not really, Momonga-san. Can you try casting a spell? I'm pretty sure it would probably work, since you are a skeleton and that doesn't make sense according to science," said Herohero. "Which implies the existence of some sort of magic and the absence of physical laws as modern science understands them."

"Well, it couldn't possibly be a new DMMO-RPG since, well, as far as I'm aware, the artificial stimulation of a player's sense of smell and touch is illegal, and plus, altering a player's voice is also illegal. Alright, let's see…[Message]," said Momonga.

Since there was no interface, and hand gestures were useless, Momonga concentrated on the idea of the spell itself. It was as though a mental faculty that had always existed within him had just been activated. Was this the mind of the undead necromancer Momonga?

\+ Herohero-san? Are you there? +

Momonga noticed the ripples that pulsed across the tar-black surface of his friend's body.

\+ How am I doing this? It's as though…I've gotten a partial brain transplant! +

Momonga considered Herohero's words very carefully. It was a superb analogy for describing the situation at hand.

As it was commonly understood, partial brain transplants could only be conducted on certain parts of the brain, since removing and replacing other areas would drastically affect the patient's personality. One could even say that a brain transplant gone wrong could result in the destruction of the previous patient's identity, making it the equivalent of murder.

Such theories and scientific advents lead to philosophical conundrums that the human race was ill-equipped to face, and these issues, in addition to the extreme technical difficulties associated with brain transplants, was why at the present day, partial brain transplants were heavily restricted in most arcologies and such a surgery cost a literal fortune for the one who paid for it.

Just then, the Gates of Judgement swung open with an oily groan, the sound of ball bearings turning in their lubricated guides but louder by an order of magnitude.

The two players turned to look at the gates. Two figures stepped within. They were familiar faces who walked with a crisp and steady pace and stopped about five feet from the two players.

Sebas-Tian, the unofficial floor guardian of the ninth floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, was the ultimate expression of a butler.

He wore a beautiful traditional butler uniform that was also a divine-class item. His shoes were well-shined, and his gloves, like Albedo's, were silk smooth but possessed a masculine grace. His wrinkled and chiselled Caucasian face was handsome like aged fine wine, and though it exuded an aura of compassion and kindness, his piercing eyes had the same air as that of a predatory hawk.

"My Lords Momonga and Herohero, how may I be of use to you?" he asked, eyeing the body of Ethel-Red that lay slumped on the carpeted floor, "Is Lord Ethel-Red in need of medical assistance?"

"Nothing like that, Sebas. Ethel is extremely tired and fell asleep," said Momonga. He thought for a moment, watching the butler nod understandingly. He then clutched his chin and spoke as formally as he could, just as how he imagined a top executive would speak to his subordinate:

"I have a task for you, Sebas-Tian," said Momonga. Watching how the head butler stiffened at his announcement, the Guild-Master continued:

"Survey the surroundings of the Tomb and report to me any geographical features and oddities observed within a half-mile radius. Furthermore, if you encounter any intelligent beings near the Tomb, please negotiate to bring them here on amicable terms, and pay any reasonable requests for compensation they may have using Nazarick's funds. Defend yourself if combat is unavoidable. Now, go immediately."

"Understood, Lord Momonga," said Sebas. "I will depart immediately."

To an AI program on the level of an NPC from YGGDRASIL, the command was hilariously complex. If someone had given a similar command in the game, they would be labelled as either a total noob or a hardcore role-player who had lost his grip on reality.

As the doors closed behind Sebas, Momonga tightened his grip on the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. Despite the lack of a heat source, the metal was warm and comforting in his hands, and Momonga liked the way he felt when he clutched it — powerful beyond compare.

"How may I be of use, Lords Momonga and Herohero?" asked Albedo.

"Umu, could you carry Lord Ethel back to his quarters, Albedo, if that isn't too difficult for you?" asked Momonga. "Furthermore, raise the security level of Nazarick to maximum. After you have brought Lord Ethel to his room, bring all of the Floor Guardians except those of the fourth, fifth, and eighth floors to meet Herohero-san and I in the Amphitheatre. There is something important to discuss."

"At once, Lord Momonga," said Albedo. She knelt down, and her arms tucked underneath the demon's armoured back and his leathery wings. Although he must have weighed over five hundred kilograms with that armour, she carried him easily and lifted him to waist level without fail, and the two players treated this detail with the utmost attention.

Momonga eyed the silhouette of the succubus as it stepped out of the Throne Room. Whispering as softly as he could, he said to Herohero:

"Hey, her physical attack's at level 85, right?"

"Don't ask me, I've not played this game in literal years!" stammered the slime.

"Gosh, so now what? Considering how she picked him up like a rag doll, she's pretty strong by Earth's standards, right?" asked Momonga.

"No shit, Sherlock, the world record for unenhanced deadlifting is, what, seven hundred and fifty kilos? Ethel-san's character probably weighs three quarters that, and that's being conservative," said Herohero. "But she didn't look like she put in much effort at all, and have you seen those who can lift seven hundred and fifty kilos on the news? They've been training with world-class equipment and they've maintained a world-class diet that's been recommended to them by world-class nutritionists and physicians since, like, six or seven and they barely look human with all the muscles they have! And when they do lift the weights, they look like they're about to die, whereas Albedo is literally the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she lifted Ethel-san so casually that it made it seem like he weighed as much as a feather! Whatever the case, we've probably travelled to a different universe where the laws of physics are totally different!"

"Umu, that's true. You're level 65 in terms of physical attack, right? How would you estimate your chances of victory against someone like Albedo or Ethel-san?" asked Momonga.

"Well, in that case, I'd say I could defeat her six times out of ten, given how I'm essentially a hard counter against tanks and physical attacker builds. If she used her World Item, the odds of winning are around two out of ten. Against Ethel-san, hmmm, pretty much the same odds, but there is still a chance that he could catch me off guard with that scary ultimate of his," muttered Herohero. "Also, why do you keep saying 'umu' now?"

"Umu, I don't—"

"See, you did it again!" chuckled Herohero.

* * *

**9th Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick**

Albedo walked slowly down the residential hallway of the ninth floor. Maids stood at attention on either side of the corridor, staring at the unannounced procession in stunned silence. Most of them had never seen the Overseer of the Floor Guardians, but they knew of her legendary strength and intellect, and not to mention, her beauty. With the sole exception of one other individual, she was the servant who held the most authority in all of Nazarick.

But what intrigued the homunculi the most was the being she carried in her arms. They had recognized him immediately and had channelled their utmost respect in the act of kneeling before the guardian of the tenth floor, even though it wasn't directed towards her. Albedo ignored them and carried on.

"Hmm, ninth floor, Residential Hall, Royal Suite Area…It should be just round this bend…Eh? This looks familiar…" mumbled Albedo, coming to a halt at a junction in the hallway. To her left was a massive double-door that gleamed with an onyx shine. At first glance, it greatly resembled the Gates of Judgement that led to the Throne Room. It too had been constructed using a composite of several prismatic ores and other metals, and it also had an exterior that was made of adamantite.

Unlike Demiurge, Albedo had no eye for art, and she ignored the intricate carvings of demons and angels as she pushed the doors open and stepped within the sacred tributary that fed into forty-one rooms.

She was greeted by a massive hallway that dwarfed the previous one in length and width and height. It had a constitution very similar to that of the Throne Room: The walls were as white as silver and the ornamentation was done in radiant gold, and a scarlet carpet led the footpath.

Albedo continued down the hall as she took in the sheer size of the chamber, passing several pieces of stunning artwork — an indistinguishable replica of the _Sacrifice of Isaac_ , several larger-than-life marble sculptures, and a few divine-class items from YGGDRASIL. Demiurge would love to roam these halls, but Albedo's emotions resembled confusion of the highest order.

She was puzzled as to why the Supreme Beings chose to depict mere humans — inferior lifeforms undeserving of the honour of having their likenesses as the subject of their divine artistry.

"Ethel-Red, twenty-third Supreme Being, room twenty-three," she muttered again, voicing her thoughts out loud.

Albedo knew of the things that watched her silently from the domed ceiling. Eight-Edge Assassins, they were called. An arachnid monster that could turn itself invisible at will. Armed with eight razor-sharp legs and the ability to attack with them simultaneously, the level 75 Eight-Edge Assassins that guarded the Royal Suite Area was a force to be reckoned with.

At least seventy of the hideous creatures were guarding the massive hallway from the ceiling. The average level 100 player could easily defeat a few, but if all of them attacked at the same time, then he or she was as good as dead.

Now, they were following Albedo from the roof. Silently but surely, a mass of them had gathered above the Guardian Overseer, who stopped dead in her tracks.

Unafraid, Albedo cleared her throat.

"I am here under the orders of Lord Momonga, the Master of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, to bring the Supreme Being Ethel-Red to his room and lay him on his bed so that he can rest," she announced. "You may perform your duties but know that barring the Supreme Being and I from room twenty-three will displease him and the Master of Nazarick greatly."

There was a slight delay in the Assassin Leader's words. He was a noticeably larger creature than the rest of his squadron, and Albedo estimated his level to be at least eighty-five.

"Acknowledged. I will verify the truth of your words with my Master," said the leader in an utterly toneless and robotic voice.

Albedo pressed on, and the Eight-Edge Assassins dispersed. Still, she could feel their gaze on her back as she did.

As the Guardian Overseer approached the twenty-third Royal Suite, she could sense a different presence within it. She frowned, scanning her memory for a list of the inhabitants of the ninth floor, eliminating possibilities in her subconscious at incredible speeds.

Was this the NPC that Lord Ethel-Red had personally created? Although she had never met this one personally in the past, she knew that it was powerful, but nowhere near her level. The presence could not have been that of a maid, not even a member of the Pleiades. It was way too strong, even stronger than the Eight-Edge Assassins. Was it the Area Guardian of the Royal Suites?

The presence had not shifted from where it had been at the start. The heavy adamantite door was unlocked, and it swung open soundlessly as Albedo pushed against it with her foot without hesitation. The Guardian Overseer muttered an apology to the demon slumped across her arms for treating the door with such disrespect.

Albedo peered into the pitch darkness of the room. She had good night vision and thus had no need to look for the light switch.

With the exception of the other Royal Suites, the twenty-third room's dimensions were many times that of any other personal room in Nazarick. It contained a study room, a bathroom, a master bedroom, a conjoined dressing room, and more. It was an apartment all on its own.

Albedo stepped into the darkness of the cold room and closed the door behind her.

Something was definitely watching her. She sensed no killing intent from the creature, and she could now get a better feel of its strength. It was around level 85 or so.

"Over here, Albedo-sama," it said in a light, feminine voice.

Albedo turned. Light glinted from ten curved blades and crimson armor.

Fifteen feet away, a humanoid figure sat at the foot of Ethel's bed. It was as thin as a wire, and it wore a ragged black cloak that covered a tight black bodysuit.

The creature's slender arms each ended in five gloved fingers, and each of them terminated in a curved, razor-sharp blade. A pair of massive bat-like wings sprouted from her back and a long, slender tail that ended in an arrowhead lay slumped like a snake on the floor.

It stared at her through two sinister orbs of ink.

At first glance, the monster had an indubitably beautiful voice and appearance, by human standards, but it was the insidious details like these that ultimately betrayed the impression of humanity across many of Nazarick's denizens.

What perturbed Albedo was the fact that she had already scanned over the thing's location. Something so massive couldn't possibly have hidden from her. Was it capable of high-level invisibility magic? Or was it a skill? Or an item?

"What has happened to my Lord?" it asked.

"I presume you're the creation of Lord Ethel-Red? Your name must be Acheron, and along with the Eight-Edge Assassins, you are an Area Guardian of the Royal Suites," said Albedo. "Why are you sitting on the Supreme One's bed?"

The thing cocked its head to the right, though it was not in contempt of the Floor Guardian.

"That's me," confirmed Acheron. "Normally, I patrol the hallway, but recently I was tasked with safeguarding his room and his possessions in his absence. This where I was asked to sit by my Lord Ethel. What has happened to him, Albedo-sama?"

"He passed out from exhaustion. His life is not in danger. In other words, he is asleep," said Albedo, approaching the side of the bed.

"Understood," said the creature. "Thank you for bringing him here."

The thing peeled away one of the many layers of blankets that covered the bed and draped it gently over Ethel-Red as Albedo laid him in its centre.

"You should thank Lord Momonga instead of myself. He was the one who gave the order, after all," said Albedo.

"Alright, Albedo-sama. Please relay to him my words of appreciation," said the thing, getting off the bed and rearing to its full height. Albedo saw the face of an attractive woman and skin that was paler than dry bone. The creature's untied hair was raven-black, and her eyes were utterly black with pinpricks of madness.

Underneath the thick and ragged cloak, the creature wore a suit of crimson armor that greatly resembled Ethel's. Even her face bore a great resemblance to his. It was as though the thing was once a beautiful duplicate of the Supreme One, then corrupted to the extreme.

"Is that all for now, Albedo-sama? Have I been issued any commands by the Supreme Ones?" asked Acheron.

"Not yet, Acheron-san. But it seems that something strange has happened to the Tomb. Lord Momonga has thus raised its security level to maximum," said Albedo.

"Or so I've recently heard, Albedo-sama," said Acheron. "Is an invasion underway?"

"It's definitely something different. Lord Momonga has been deep in thought about it," said Albedo. "If it is an invasion, he would not have called the Floor Guardians to gather at the Amphitheatre."

"That is something I wasn't told about, Albedo-sama. Has Lord Momonga or Lord Herohero ordered you to relay a message to Lord Ethel?" asked Acheron.

"Not at the moment, but I'm sure you will be given the honour of relaying their messages if Lord Ethel-Red remains unconscious, Acheron-san," said Albedo. "Now then, it's best that I depart now to gather the Floor Guardians. I've had a good time talking to you, Acheron-san."

"Likewise," said the thing.

"Albedo-sama."

* * *

**6th Floor Amphitheatre, Great Tomb of Nazarick**

Teleportation with the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown was an odd experience. It was one of those events that showed Herohero how truly messed up the laws of physics were in this universe. Even in the 22nd century, teleportation technology could only be used to transport items on the scale of proteins for distances of at most a few meters.

His intuition rebelled against the very idea of teleportation. Even attempting to search for an underlying logical explanation would give him a headache.

Still, there was no denying the fact that teleportation using the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown was extremely safe and would probably remain so for the foreseeable future.

Herohero looked around the Amphitheatre. Teleportation magic traps made it such that many players who invaded the Tomb would find themselves trapped in this area. Almost every major invasion of the Great Tomb of Nazarick has met its end here — every invasion but the one led by the Eight-Guild Alliance that had been whittled down to around 1500 players by the time they had made it to the sixth floor. From there, they progressed to the seventh and eighth floor, where they met their end, after annihilating the Floor Guardians and their minions on this floor.

Herohero slithered down the stairs of the Amphitheatre with Momonga at his side. From far off, Herohero could see a tiny face staring at them from an ornate outcrop. He caught the impression of tanned skin and long, elf-like ears.

 _That must be either Aura, I think. Mare is the trap and Aura is the reverse-trap,_ thought Herohero. He waved at the Floor Guardian with a slimy appendage and saw her face turn red with embarrassment.

_What's she so worked up about? All I did was wave…_

"What is it, Herohero-san?" asked Momonga.

Herohero pointed to the viewing platform.

"I think I just saw Aura," he said.

"Hiya!"

The small figure hopped down a height of six stories. It did a back-flip mid-air and landed in a cloud of yellow sand.

The duo watched in stunned silence as the figure absorbed the impact just by bending its knees. It made peace signs with its hands and flashed a smile of victory.

Without breaking pace, the figure began to close the distance between itself and the duo at frightening speed, covering a hundred meters in three seconds.

"Ah…you're right, Herohero-san, it is Aura," said Momonga, who had cast [Sense Enemy] on instinct. But there was not a shred of hostility from the cheerful figure, and Momonga felt that it was unnecessary to continue staying on guard.

"Phew." Wiping a forehead that wasn't sweating and smiling like a puppy who wanted to play, Aura Bella Fiore greeted the Supreme Beings in a refreshingly cheerful manner: "Welcome, Lords Herohero and Momonga, to the floor I guard with my brother!"

This was a great relief to Momonga and Herohero. If she began speaking like Albedo or Sebas, then all hope was lost.

"Umu, speaking of your brother, Mare…" muttered Momonga.

Aura's face flushed red with embarrassment. She turned quickly to the VIP area, and shouted indignantly, "Mare! C'mon! You're embarrassing me and making Lord Momonga and Lord Herohero wait!"

Just then, a small head peeked out from behind one of the VIP seats. It looked similar to Aura's, except this time it looked more feminine and the order of its heterochromatic eyes had been reversed. Eventually, the figure emerged fully from the darkness of the VIP seats.

"Mare! Get down from there this instant!" demanded Aura, her face flushed red with anger.

"U-Um, Sis…I-I…there's no way…" came a timid voice from the figure.

"It's alright, Aura-san, Mare-san can take his time," said Herohero, attempting to defuse the situation.

"B-But, Lord Herohero, he's being such a wimp!" said Aura. She sighed tiredly. "Uh, Lord Momonga and Lord Herohero, he's just a bit of a coward. He's not being rude on purpose."

"We understand," said Momonga. "Never once have I doubted the loyalty of the Guardians of the Sixth Floor."

_So that's how Bukubukuchagama-san meant for them to be. Their personalities were described in paragraphs of text. Even if you wrote a novel-sized biography, there would be no difference in the actions they took in Yggdrasil. No increases to their stats and whatnot._

_In any case, I will be extremely interested in meeting the Guardian of the Seventh Floor,_ thought Momonga.

Just then, something fell from the VIP Lounge and impacted the sandy stage of the Amphitheatre at speeds that would instantly kill a human.

Standing completely unharmed at the edge of the arena was a dark elf dressed in female clothes. It clutched a staff made of gnarled, polished wood, and despite its timid appearance, the two players knew — and could tell — that this being was far more powerful than Aura Bella Fiora.

The dark elf hurried over to the trio, kicking up a cloud of sand and dust in its wake as its sister did. It stopped a few feet away from the trio, clutching its staff timidly.

"M-Momonga and Herohero-sama!" said the dark elf. "S-Sorry to keep you waiting!"

"Don't worry about it, Mare," said Momonga. "Most of all, I'm just glad that you and your sister are safe, with the strange situation that has befallen the Tomb."

"Huh? What is this strange situation that you speak of Lord Momonga?" asked Aura.

"Y-Yeah, what is it?" asked Mare.

"A moment, please," said Momonga. He placed a finger to his head. "[Message]"

\+ Sebas? Are you there, Sebas? +

The response took a fraction of a second to arrive, but Momonga felt as though it lasted an eternity.

\+ My Lord? +

\+ Ah, Sebas, do you have anything to report? +

\+ Nothing at the moment, my Lord. I am approaching the entrance of the Tomb. I will need a little more time. +

_That makes sense…travel from the tenth to the first floor without the use of a Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown usually takes about fifteen to twenty minutes._

\+ That's alright, Sebas. +

\+ I apologize for the delay, Lord Momonga…Ah…What? +

\+ What is it, Sebas? +

\+ Ah, My Lord, I apologize for being unprofessional. It appears that the Tomb's surroundings have changed drastically. +

\+ Is that so? How would you describe it? Is there a lot of smoke? +

\+ Negative, My Lord. It appears to be a grassy plain. It is nighttime, and a moon and many stars are visible. +

_A clear sky? Interesting…_

\+ Very well. Then, proceed with the task I have given you and report back to the Great Tomb of Nazarick after you have finished. +

\+ At once, My Lord. +

Momonga ended the transmission and returned his attention to Mare and Aura.

"The Floor Guardians should be arriving soon to be briefed on the matter at hand," said Momonga.

Aura's ears drooped slightly upon hearing this.

"All the Floor Guardians? So…Shalltear will be here too?"

"That's right."

Mare was pretty much alright with this new development. It was possibly a reaction that arose from something encoded by Bukubukuchagama in Aura's personality sheet. Perhaps it had something to do with Bubbling Teapot's relationship with her brother Peroroncino, Shalltear's creator. Momonga recalled all the friendly fights and arguments they had with each other in the game.

"From what Sebas has told me, it would appear that the entirety of the Tomb has been teleported by unknown forces to an unknown land," continued Momonga, eyeing Herohero, who gave a nod.

"H-Huh! That means…" Aura trailed off. She glanced at Mare, who looked terrified.

"Indeed. This is an emergency of the highest order," said Momonga, who tightened his grip around the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

"So that's why you increased Nazarick's security to maximum," said Mare.

"As I should have," said Momonga. "Anyways, before the Floor Guardians arrive, I would like to try something…and I believe Herohero-san would like to do the same too."

Momonga glanced at Herohero, who nodded once again.

"S-Sure! How can we be of help, my Lords?" asked Aura.

Herohero made a thinking gesture as he lifted a slimy appendage where his head should have been.

"Hmm, do you have any dummies?" asked Herohero. Back in YGGDRASIL, there were dummies whose debuff resistance and defence values were customizable, depending on the quality of the materials they were made of.

"We sure do, Lord Herohero!" announced Aura enthusiastically. "Do you need any?"

"Could you gather ten dummies in the area of land ahead of us and arrange them spaced about five meters from each other?" asked Herohero.

"Sure thing! Just a minute, Lord Herohero, I'll begin preparations right away!"

* * *

Momonga glanced at the two gigantic demi-humans that had already begun placing down the iron mannequins. They stood upright bipedally, at over ten feet tall, and their immense frames were jam-packed with muscle. Massive scales harder than steel plated their skin, and their tails were thicker than tree trunks.

Despite their size, they only reached a pathetic level 55. They were classified as 'Dragonkin', due to their superficial similarities with true Dragons, and they were employed by Aura. They could not use magic and did not have any special abilities, but the incredible strength that was inherent in their massive frames were the reason why they were able to easily lift several of the life-sized iron mannequins that weighed over half a ton at one go.

As the last of the mannequins were placed on the golden sand, the human inside Momonga couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the rising trepidation in his nonexistent heart. He felt it being suppressed, but even so, there were rational causes of concern within him.

_Would the NPCs think that I'm weak if they're unimpressed by my spell? I'm pretty sure that I'll be able to use magic, given how I was able to teleport using the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, but what if I don't put up the grand display that they're expecting? Could they possibly rebel against Herohero, Ethel-Red, and I if they think that I'm weak?_

Momonga suppressed these thoughts. Now was not the time for fretting.

As the last of the Dragonkin backed away from the targeted zone, Ainz stretched his fingers slowly at an iron mannequin that stood ten meters away.

"Hey, leave some for me, Momonga-san," came a familiar voice from behind him.

Momonga chuckled, and so did Herohero.

Due to his build, the majority of Momonga's spells were based around inflicting secondary effects such as instadeath and paralysis, which had no effect whatsoever on non-living targets such as mannequins. Despite this, there were still a fair number of powerful, straightforward damage-dealing spells in his vast repertoire of 718.

_For starters, I'll begin with a third-tier spell, after which I will progress to a much higher tier…_

"Now then, [Fireball]!" shouted Ainz, his words filled with strength.

Flames flickered into existence in his empty palm and grew to the size of a football. It shot off towards the iron mannequin at incredible speed and struck exactly where he'd aimed.

The ball exploded on impact, and the mannequin was instantly annihilated.

Fist sized pieces of red-hot metal fell silently from the sky, and where the mannequin once stood was a mini inferno that engulfed two trunkless legs of iron.

Flames so hot that they were more at home in a blast furnace raged uncontrollably in a fiery circle, licking at the nearby mannequins.

_All this…by a third-tier spell? Alright, calm down, here comes the big guns. But even though [Fireball] was probably the equivalent of a small bomb, there might still be beings outside Nazarick who can withstand such attacks, despite the evidence against the idea that we have been transported to YGGDRASIL. And if other players have been transported to this place, then they would definitely be able to withstand such forces._

But then, Momonga had an idea. Since there was probably no other way to gauge his friends' durability other than straight-up attacking them, it made sense that this should be something that he should prioritize testing.

"Hey, Herohero-san," said Momonga.

"Yeah, Momonga-san?" replied an audibly shaken Elder Black Ooze.

"What do you think is gonna happen if I shot you with that?" joked Momonga.

"Oh no, don't you dar—"

"[Fireball]!" shouted Momonga, aiming the spell directly at the slime. Herohero tried to dodge, but it was too late. The explosion engulfed his body, and a blinding white light engulfed his vision, and Herohero screamed as if on reflex but —

—there was no pain.

"Wow, High-Tier Magic Immunity! As expected of the Supreme One, Herohero-sama!" said Aura cheerfully.

Standing in the midst of the wreckage was Herohero, utterly unharmed.

_I just withstood the equivalent of multiple hand grenades going off simultaneously in my face. I tanked Momonga-san's attack like it was nothing! Still, I can't help but feel a little mad at him for what he did. Oh well…_

_That's right, magic works now, so why wouldn't my resistances take effect?_

"You have some big balls, Momonga!" shouted Herohero. Momonga smiled. It was nice seeing his friend being so energetic for once. The slime slithered out of the blaze, smothering the flames as he went.

Herohero turned to the mannequins, targeting one that stood closest to him.

"Here goes: [Barrage of Dissolution]!"

With no icons to click on, Herohero concentrated on the idea of one of his favourite ninth-tier spells, as if on instinct. A teal green magic circle identical to the one in YGGDRASIL appeared before him, and a thick yellow mist spewed out of the centre of the circle and shot towards the iron mannequin at great speed.

Herohero watched as the flood of sickly yellow mist battered the iron mannequin. But the figure held, unmoving. For a second, nothing seemed to happen, and the mannequin looked exactly the same as it did before.

And then, Herohero heard the sound of sizzling as the smooth façade of the mannequin gave way and the figure crumbled into a thick-green sludge in a matter of seconds.

The sizzling grew louder and louder, and the chunks of iron that had once existed in the toxic soup were completely dissolved, and the thick brown sludge became a homogenous liquid.

But the spell was not over.

Heat began to rise from the boiling, toxic puddle. Heat that cast a mirage on the image of the mannequins beyond the puddle. Heat so virulent and intense that flames roared to life a second later, utterly engulfing what remained of the mannequin in a blazing emerald inferno.

"Magical fire," mumbled Herohero.

_What else could it be? There doesn't appear to be any fuel for an actual fire to start…So it's completely identical to the spell from the game, huh._

"Hmm? You were saying, Herohero-san?" asked Momonga.

"Nothing. Nothing but a passing thought," said Herohero as he stared at a charred clump of cooling iron, no larger than a man's fist, that now served as all the evidence there was for the mannequin's short existence.

 _But if those from Nazarick are able to cast magic in this world, wouldn't the other inhabitants of this world be able to do the same? I wonder what tier of magic they can cast_ , thought Herohero.

Momonga directed his attention to the iron mannequin closest to himself after making up his mind on the spell he wanted to cast.

_Short and direct. A symbol of immense power. But I want to conserve my mana in case any of the other Floor Guardians are hostile. Ah, right, is that skill available for casting? Looks like it is. Granted, I'll have to last a few seconds against them in order to use it. I'll make sure that it's the first thing I do if they turn out to be hostile._

"[Black Hole]!" roared Momonga across the blasted landscape of the arena. His words reverberated with power and gusto, briefly startling Aura and Mare. Momonga held out the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown for dramatic effect, its every jewel aimed at the space above the targeted iron mannequin.

A black dot appeared above the mannequin. It was no more than a speck, almost too small for the eye to see. But then it grew larger and larger, drawing everything in its surroundings. Not even light seemed to escape, and the immense gravitational forces that bound the sphere seemed to bend the very fabric of space. The image of the mannequin seemed to curl circularly around the orb, faster and faster until it was no thicker than the length of a human hair.

And then, as quickly as it had appeared, the lightless orb disappeared, leaving behind nothing but an abnormally smooth crater in the sand where the mannequin had once stood.

The mannequin was gone.

This was [Black Hole], an eighth-tier AoE spell. Compared to the thousands of combat-oriented spells in YGGDRASIL, it had quite a high DPS. The only downside was the outrageously short duration in relation to other spells. For a level 100 player, it was easy to defend against, but it worked rather well on grouped creatures due to its AoE effect and high DPS.

"As I just said, this spell is called [Black Hole]. It boasts an incredibly high DPS, but the duration of the effect is very short," said Momonga.

"Forgive my ignorance, Momonga-sama, but what is DPS?" asked Mare timidly.

"Ah, it stands for 'damage per second'. It's basically a unit of the rate of damage inflicted on a target," said Momonga.

"Oh, cool! How do you measure it then, Momonga-sama?" asked Mare.

_Oh shit, how am I supposed to answer that? Back in YGGDRASIL, it was possible to measure a weapon's DPS using an item called a 'DPS Counter'. But...will such an item work here?_

"Umu, let's see…" muttered Momonga. A small, two-dimensional oval seemed to float in the three-dimensional space beside his head. It flared with the darkest shade of purple imaginable, with trimmings of black near the edges, and Momonga stretched his fleshless fingers towards it, unaware of what to expect.

Reaching into the portal was a feeling unlike any other. Momonga's fingers did not emerge from the other side, betraying his intuition. It was like reaching into a basin of water — only that it did not feel wet, and it felt normal on the other side, like he was grasping empty air.

Recalling how he used to operate the item box, Momonga swiped his hand to one side. A window appeared in the air, right before him in the portal — though it was invisible for all present — and beyond it were several, vertically stacked staves. Momonga began to scroll through the staves, knowing full well that this was the item box from YGGDRASIL.

_Now then, DPS Counter…found it._

Momonga grasped firmly on the box-shaped device and pulled it out of the portal. He wondered how he could explain to Herohero the sheer amount of junk stored in his item box. There were hundreds of weapons, scrolls, wands, consumables, magical tools, and armour stored in there. Although early on, there was some merit to his belief that certain consumables might be more useful in later events and battles, it became clear later on that his behaviour was driven by pure stinginess.

"Here it is, Mare. Without the DPS Counter, the DPS of a weapon cannot be measured," said Momonga, recalling how he used to operate the device. The simple-looking device was no larger than a man's palm. A single rectangular screen had been set on its aluminium frame, and a small blue button that acted as a power switch was situated on its slim left side.

Momonga threw it at Mare gently. A look of surprise flashed across the dark elf's face before he caught it nimbly with both of his gloved hands.

"Here you go, Mare. Return it to me tomorrow," said Momonga.

"H-H-Huh? Y-You're giving this to m-me?" asked Mare incredulously.

"Well, I'm lending it to you. Be sure to share it with your sister," said Momonga.

"O-Of course, Momonga-sama!" exclaimed Mare.

"Hey, Momonga-san?" asked Herohero. "Do you happen to have a spare DPS counter?"

Momonga turned to face the slime. "Ah, sure. Here you go."

He plucked another DPS counter from the window and tossed it over to Herohero, who caught it and turned to face the mannequins, choosing the one closest to him as the target of the next magical onslaught.

_I wonder if such accessories will work now that YGGDRASIL has come to life. They seem to function as an electronic gadget, meaning that its workings should be based on scientific principles._

_But magic and the principles of modern science cannot co-exist in the same universe. Magical phenomena in YGGDRASIL violates the laws of thermodynamics, which is pretty obvious._

_Therefore, I think the most logical explanation would be that we've been transported to a different universe where magic exists, and the mathematical laws of the natural world are different._

_But I wonder how a unit of 'damage' is defined. Of course, one could say that it's a 1 to 1 conversion of HP, but I feel that that's just avoiding the question altogether. How are HP values defined then?_

_Besides, how does the DPS counter calculate the DPS? There's one way that I can think of, and that requires it to obtain y amount of damage done per x amount of time and using this, extrapolate the amount of damage done per second._

_How does the DPS counter obtain the information stating the amount of damage done, then?_

_Now that is truly unanswerable,_ thought Herohero.

"[Maximize Magic: Force Burst]!" chanted the slime, who held out a dripping appendage. A crimson glyph appeared immediately, signifying the usage of the seventh-tier spell, and a powerful shockwave rippled through the air, leaving the magic circle with an ear-splitting bang.

Herohero watched as the massive shockwave closed the gap of fourteen-meters in a near-instant. It struck the mannequin with far more power than the [Fireball] that Momonga had used, sending it flying into the distance.

_Shockwaves, huh. Didn't seem like it did much damage on the outside, judging from the exterior of the mannequin, but it sure would've caused a crap ton of damage to the person who was standing there. That's how bombs killed, right? Using shockwaves and heat to liquefy your internal organs. Nice little spell, this is. It used to do quite a large amount of damage back in YGGDRASIL._

Herohero turned to the mannequin right in front of him. They had used up the entirety of the first row of mannequins, leaving nothing but scorch marks and puddles of acid in the wake of their destruction.

But just before he could cast the spell, Herohero was interrupted by a voice from behind.

"Oh? Am I the first?"

It was a young, feminine voice.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the Amphitheatre, a shadow had been spreading behind them. This shadow rose up from the ground and took the form of a concave entrance. None could see past the lightless veil, but the sound of footsteps could be heard coming from within.

"Oh? Am I the first?"

Momonga and Herohero turned immediately at the first syllables of that seductive, unfamiliar voice.

They tensed up immediately, in both fear and extreme caution, at the sight of the figure who had stepped through.

Shalltear Bloodfallen.

* * *

**Royal Suite No. 23, Ninth Floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick**

Ethel-Red awoke with a start.

For starters, the room was way too bright, almost as bright as day.

Judging by the time that he felt had passed in bed, it should have been morning or early afternoon by now, but it was never this bright in any point in time throughout the day, since the streetlights maintained a constant luminosity from when they were switched on at six A.M. to the point at which they were switched off at seven P.M, and plus, the amount of power supplied would be deemed as 'too much for the stupid commoners' by the nearby arcology that produced it.

So, what was it? A mistake on the Mitsubishi Arcology's part for supplying too much power to the city he resided in?

Possibly.

Ethel-Red pushed an arm through the abnormally soft and comforting blanket that completely covered his body in an instinctual action, reaching for the VR helmet that covered his head—

—and stopped.

There was no helmet.

_Could it have fallen off? No, that's impossible. It was designed to not come off._

Ethel-Red reached for the neural port on his neck, but there was nothing there. His fingers felt abnormally smooth and cold to the touch - as if he were wearing some kind of metal glove, or a gauntlet, to be specific.

_Where is it? Why is my hair so long? What is…this…that I'm wearing?_

Ethel-Red sat up in a fright, patting himself over.

_Is this some kind of armour?_

Something moved in the darkness.

Silence.

Ethel's gaze panned across the room. It was not his apartment, though this was oddly familiar, though he could not exactly remember where he last saw it.

_Is this a dream? Where am I? Why does this place look so familiar?_

"Hello, Creator," said something. "Are you alright?"

Ethel's head snapped to the left in surprise. A human neck would have been severely injured by the movement.

Yet if anything, it was a soothing voice that calmed him.

His gaze fell upon the figure seated on an ornate, golden chair. She was right beside him.

The thing that sat on the chair looked like the most beautiful woman he'd seen in his life. Why wouldn't she be? He had moulded her from the ether after his own tastes, after all.

_This is impossible. No wonder this room is so damn familiar. Royal Suite number twenty-three, situated on the ninth floor of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, located in the outer edges of Helheim, YGGDRASIL._

_What the hell is going on? I fell asleep during just before the forced shutdown, wake up in a fictional room in a fictional tomb on a fictional world in a fictional universe, and now a fictional character of my design is speaking to me. How in the world did I get transported to my room when I was in the Throne Room?_

"Creator?" asked the thing.

_Was I asleep? How am I able to sleep in the game without being teleported to the Round Table Room? Besides, hasn't the game shut down? How can she talk to me if she's an NPC? Why do her movements look so real? How is she able to have facial expressions? Is this YGGDRASIL 2.0? Why can't I see my HUD? I can't seem to access the GM call either. Am I being forced to play YGGDRASIL 2.0? No, that can't be right! That's illegal!_

Ethel looked into the creature's hypnotic eyes, of which there was only one he could see. Its face was half-obscured by the massive tangle of black hair that had been draped across its shoulders. The creature looked back and warmly smiled. He moved cautiously, stretching his legs to the edge of the bed and getting into a seated pose that faced her.

_Now, assuming that I am in YGGDRASIL 2.0, or any legally registered DMMO-RPG game for that matter, there would be a way to quickly distinguish reality from fiction. And that would be..._

"Acheron…" muttered Ethel in regret, noting the happiness on his creation's face when he spoke its name.

_Why the heck is my voice so different from my real one? It's just a tiny bit deeper, but it also has another quality that I can't quite describe…back in YGGDRASIL, you couldn't distort your voice without the use of certain items, items which aren't equipped right now...is this another one of YGGDRASIL 2.0's roleplay-related gimmicks? Is this what a demon sounds like? Well, it's not as deep as I expected, but you know what they say about the devil..._

"Yes, my Creator?"

_Would it be worth doing this? If I am indeed in a DMMO-RPG, I might get banned for life! But let's examine the possibilities:_

_One, I touch her in a restricted area, but nothing happens, meaning that the game has come to life. There is a lot of evidence supporting this theory: me being able to smell this room, me being able to sense the texture of this blanket and this armour that I'm now wearing. These were features never before implemented in the game. Furthermore, I can't seem to log out, and involuntary participation in a DMMO-RPG is a criminal offence, eliminating one of two possibilities in which the game has not come to life._

_Inherently, I have nothing to lose in the act of touching her, but if she has truly gained sapience, she might resent me and even attack me._

_Then again, she's level 80 and I'm level 100, so there's no way I can lose to her. Plus, she's only a healer! I have nothing to lose in this event._

_Two, I touch her in a restricted area, and I'm kicked from the game, either automatically or by a GM. I might be persecuted for violating the Social Order Maintenance Act. But I could excuse myself by saying that I was trying to forcibly exit the game by doing an R-18 action that was known to automatically boot players from the game, that is, as a means of exiting the game. Plus, if other players like Momonga-san and Herohero-san are also trapped like me and have come up with this idea, we could form an alliance in the real world against the developers._

_Ah, how naïve of me. Nevertheless, again I stand to lose little in this possibility since I'm also able to regain my freedom._

_So, this is all the plausible outcomes I can think of for now. Overall, I stand to lose very little by touching Acheron-san._

"Lord Ethel? You're spacing out again," said Acheron.

"Ah, forgive me for asking this, Acheron, but may I touch you?"

Ethel was surprised by the matter-of-fact tone he had spoken those words in, half-expecting a slap on his face by the NPC.

"Huh? You want to touch me?"

"Y-Yes, if you allow it, of course," replied Ethel.

"Of course I do! As your creation, I am aware that when a Lord of Nazarick is busy, he may not have access to outlets for his desires! You may touch me as much as—"

"N-No!" shouted Ethel, "That is not why…ugh…"

"My Lord?"

"Pay it no mind. Now, I will touch you only once," said Ethel.

"Very well, my Creator," said Acheron enthusiastically as she stood up from the chair. Her armour disappeared with a flash, revealing a black bodysuit.

Warily, Ethel reached under her cloak with a gauntleted hand. In this form, she had a humanoid appearance, so the usually restricted zones applied in-game.

Ethel stretched his armoured fingers towards her groin, bracing for the flashing of bright red warning lights and the ear-splitting blaring of a warning signal.

He rubbed his fingers against her black tight-suit.

Nothing happened.

He could clearly feel her as he rubbed against the smooth, black fabric, this time a little harder. Acheron looked on curiously as her master quickly withdrew his hand.

_So, YGGDRASIL has come to life, huh. Sounds like something straight out of a shitty anime. For now, Acheron-san appears to be loyal, but I don't know if that's true with the other NPCs._

_I don't know why I didn't get an erection. She's clearly female, and I think she looks gorgeous! Do I still have a penis? I wasn't aroused either by touching her. It's almost as though my racial levels have obliterated my libido._

_Oh, right! Momonga-san and Herohero-san were at the shutdown, right? So that means they should be around here._

Ethel pushed himself out of the bed slowly and stood up next to Acheron, who looked at him with a slit-mouthed smile.

"So sorry about that. Where are Momonga-san and Herohero-san, Acheron?" asked Ethel-Red.

_Why is she alright with this?_

"Ah, they were last seen at the Amphitheatre, about four and a half hours ago. The Floor Guardians were there too, according to what Lady Albedo told me," said Acheron. "However, about an hour ago, Lord Momonga sent me a [Message], asking me to tell you to go to the Round Table Room. Since he hasn't yet sent any, I believe he is still there, waiting for you."

"Albedo was here?" asked Ethel-Red.

"Indeed, my Lord. She was the one who carried you here," said Acheron.

"Carried?" asked Ethel-Red.

"Apparently, you collapsed in the Throne Room, my Lord," said Acheron.

"I see. That explains much," said Ethel-Red. "How long have I slept?"

"About four and a half hours, my Lord," said Acheron.

_That makes sense. I've gotten accustomed to waking up early that I've seemingly conditioned my body to do so. Does magic still work? A [Message] spell would come in handy at times like these. Alright, let's see if it still works._

Concentrating hard on the idea on the spell, Ethel pressed a finger against his right temple.

"Message."

The sensation was difficult to describe, but Ethel felt as though he was trying to look for something. He felt an extension of himself moving through the walls of the ninth floor at breakneck speeds, teleporting from one entity to another, until finally…

"Found you," muttered Ethel.

Normally, the recipient of the spell would be notified through a ringing sound that was analogous to that of a cell phone in the real world. He wondered if that was the case here.

_C'mon, pick up!_

\+ Ethel-san? Ah, finally you're awake? I'm sure you have a lot of questions, just come to the Round Table Room. You know where it is, right? +

_Momonga's voice is so deep. Well, ignoring the fact that he wouldn't be able to speak without vocal cords, that's exactly how an undead should sound like._

\+ Of course I do, we were there just a few hours ago. I'll be there right away. +

With that, he severed the connection with Momonga and lifted his finger.

"It appears that Momonga-san is still in the Round Table Room," said Ethel. "Oh, right, this is unnecessary, but out of pure curiosity, were there any announcements made by Momonga-san or Herohero-san?"

"There was a massive gathering in the Throne Room that I attended. Lord Momonga announced that the Tomb has been teleported to an unknown land, citing a complete change in its surroundings as evidence for this statement. When someone – was it Lupusregina Beta? – inquired on your whereabouts, Lady Albedo told her that you were asleep in your room after passing out from exhaustion. Is this true, my Lord?"

"Yes, that is spot-on. I did not equip the item that granted me immunity to fatigue," said Ethel-Red. "That was careless."

He wasn't lying.

"Ah, I see. So, is there anything you would like to do now?" asked Acheron.

_Teleported to an unknown land, huh. That is to say that we're not in Helheim anymore. If so, where could we be?_

"Would you like me to escort you to the Round Table Room, Creator?" asked Acheron.

"Sorry, I was deep in thought," said Ethel. "Yes, let's go there."

"You need not apologize. So, when do we depart?" asked Acheron.

_Alright, let's see if I can still access my inventory._

Ethel stretched his gauntleted fingers into the air. As if on command, a dark purple portal, no larger than a man's fist, began to materialize. Ethel noted the similarities it had with the [Gate] spell and reached in.

What followed was probably the strangest sensation he'd felt up to now.

It was like piercing through an unfathomably thin watery surface with his fingers, only to reach into an empty space. The opaque veil of the portal soon became transparent, and Ethel could see the masses of weapons each suspended in a glassy stave, of which there was an infinite quantity, all stacked upon each other, stretching infinitely both up and down.

Ethel concentrated on the item he wished to take, and the column of staves moved up and up with extreme speed, as though it was some kind of infinitely long conveyer belt that carried his items. It reached Ethel's item of choice in a near-instant, and the player could feel the nostalgia creeping into his heart as his gaze fell upon the beloved weapon.

For the first time in this new world, Ethel removed something from his item box.

It measured more than eight feet long, and the shaft alone must have weighed close to a thousand kilograms, but such a concern was insignificant to Ethel who lifted it with one hand. It was a weapon that he had managed to create only after months of late-night grinding, spending tens of thousands of yen and hours of delicate planning.

The spear was made entirely from deep crimson Scarletite. It had been intricately designed and painted by Nazarick's illustrator, who Ethel had spared no expense hiring.

Despite the use of Scarletite, the spear had a fair amount of superficial gold ornamentation. It also had an artificially increased weight value to increase the penetration power of the blade at the cost of reduced speed, which was balanced out anyways by Ethel-Red's job class build.

In a long-lost age, the weapon might have been identified as a _Su yari_ , a Japanese spear with a straight double-edged blade. Or at least, it only vaguely resembled one. For starters, the blade was a little too thick, and the shaft had too many decorations. But essentially, a _Su Yari_ was the weapon from the real world that this spear bore the closest resemblance to.

He withdrew all eight feet of the spear in one go and planted it gently on the soft carpet of his room.

Be that as it may, the tip of the spear was nowhere near the ceiling.

"Is that the [Spear of Judgement]?" asked Acheron, looking at the weapon that glowed a faint black hue.

"Indeed. I created it with the help of Warrior Takemikazuchi, who aided me in obtaining the resources needed for this weapon. He owns the [Spear of Destiny], a naginata of similar size and potency. But, instead of inflicting physical damage like a regular, unenchanted spear would, the [Spear of Judgement] incinerates the target's soul with the flames of hell. Because of this, it works better against opponents with high physical defence and low magical defence, but not vice versa," said Ethel-Red.

"I think I understand, Creator," said Acheron with a nod. "Also, do you want me to return this to you?"

She held up her hands, displaying the pair of [Disruptor Gloves] that she wore.

"Ah, you may keep those. They look good on you," said Ethel.

"R-Really?"

"Yes," affirmed Ethel.

_Still, I'd like to try them out someday because of the cool ability._

_The [Disruptor Gloves] weren't part of her original design, and it was Tabula-san who had first suggested putting them on her when I made them._

_For a Divine-Class weapon, it was never really the practical sort, and it only sported a single gimmick that was very useful against legendary-tier armour and below, but Tabula-san thought they looked cool because they reminded him of an antique horror movie._ _The fatal flaw was the short reach, otherwise, it would've been too overpowered._

_Besides, she really does look cool wearing them. She looks hideous, the good kind of hideous._

"Good. Let's go," said Ethel, who turned and began walking to the door, spinning his Spear to waist level so that it could fit. Acheron followed suit, walking briskly after him, donning her armour.

_It's ironic that a demon has treated me better than most people I've met in the real world. Then again, the only reason that's the case is my programming her to behave in such a manner. Still, I didn't design her to be particularly worshipful of me or anything. Loyal, yes, and I also wrote a great deal about her personality in her backstory. Sure, it's not as detailed as those of Tabula's creations, but it still beats 99 percent of all YGGDRASIL backstories. That doesn't at all explain why she's calling me Lord._

_'Creator'? Yes, but 'Lord'?_

_Perhaps it's something that's intrinsically programmed into every NPC, independent of a player's programming. In other words, it's something that players can't change._

_Ha-ha, I pity those fools who got transported here without writing anything in the backstories of their favourite NPCs. Maybe it gives them a blank slate, maybe it doesn't give them a personality at all._

At that point, Ethel giggled slightly.

"What is it, my Lord?"

_I wish she would stop addressing me with 'Lord', but that's probably not going to happen in the foreseeable future. Should I tell her anyway?_

_I wonder what Momonga-san and Herohero-san would think about this._

"It's nothing. I just remembered something funny," said Ethel, waving a gauntleted hand.

"I see," said Acheron. "What is it?"

The heavy door unlocked with a 'hiss', and Ethel's eyes quickly adjusted to the warm light that hollowed out the pitch darkness of his room. As he stepped onto the gleaming marble outside his room, he turned in her direction.

"What do you call the beings who have invaded Nazarick in the past?" asked Ethel curiously as he began to walk down the carpeted path that led to the main entrance, using his spear as a walking stick.

"Hmm," Acheron's gaze darkened. Although she recalled little from the past, she knew that the Tomb had been invaded several times by powerful beings, though they were all inferior to the Supreme Ones, as evidenced by _that_ devastating defeat.

"Lesser beings and their servants, I think. I'm sorry, but I'm not experienced enough in this domain. As you already know, the ninth floor has never been invaded, and therefore, as one of its Area Guardians, my combat experience is low, and so is my knowledge of the outside world," said Acheron. "Perhaps asking the Floor Guardians may yield answers to your query?"

"Interesting," said Ethel as he pushed open the main gates that so very resembled the Gates of Judgement of the Throne Room, startling several passing maids who immediately prostrated themselves before him neatly in rows.

_Gah, what the hell?_

"Rise, servants of Nazarick," said Ethel. It was the only thing he could think of.

The maids rose, their uniforms crisp and their postures stiff at attention.

"You may carry on," said Ethel, looking away. "Acheron, with me."

The demon caught up with him swiftly as he walked down the hallway.

_I swear if I'm gonna have to make a stop every single time I run into those maids. I wish I could stop time and run to the Round Table Room with Acheron without being bothered by them._

_Still, I can't fault these maids for kneeling down every-time they run into me because…they were **made** that way._

_Oh, that's the funniest pun I've ever heard, my Lord Ethel-sama! As expected of the Supreme One, you really have a talent for comedy!_

_Ah, it is nothing, my dear Acheron._

He bit his lip, cringing at the never-ending internal dialogue in his mind.

He had asked Acheron the question simply to gauge his creation's perception of the outside world and YGGDRASIL's players. It was something he'd gotten curious of ever since he'd figured out that the game had come to life.

_Should I tell her that there are other guilds out there, with servants just as loyal as she is, just to different masters? That would mean that she isn't special, in terms of the intensity of her loyalty, and neither are all the other NPCs of Nazarick. How would that affect her on a psychological and existential level? No, maybe I shouldn't. Should I? Would that be cruel? Would she believe me?_

"Would you believe me if I told you that such beings might have been teleported to this world, along with the entirety of their bases of operations, just like the Great Tomb of Nazarick?" asked Ethel.

"I would be open to that possibility, Creator, as it is useful to be cautious," said Acheron. "But wouldn't that imply that there are enemies part of an organization similar to this one?"

"You seem to understand. Good," said Ethel.

"And wouldn't that imply that there are servants analogous to the ones in the Great Tomb of Nazarick, servants created by the lesser beings who have invaded the Tomb in the past?" asked Acheron. "Servants loyal to these beings."

_She's quick!_

"How enlightening, Creator. But that would simply mean that I must kill an even greater number of inferior beings, yes? If you commanded me so, I would kill them non-stop for all eternity," said Acheron.

_Ah, so she doesn't get what I'm aiming at in the end. Or did she? Perhaps the NPCs of Nazarick have an inbuilt superiority complex that's directed towards the NPCs of other guilds that prevents such a realization from snowballing into a full-fledged existential crisis._

"That you must," said Ethel. "And now that the Tomb has been transported to a mysterious land by equally mysterious means, it seems that you may have to play a more active role in the elimination of these inferior beings."

"I understand, Creator."

About twenty meters ahead, the hallway terminated in a familiar flight of carpeted stairs that led upwards. This was not the stairwell that led to the eighth floor, rather, it led directly into the Round Table Room.

Standing at the base of the stairwell was a familiar figure.

The creature's posture was exactly the same as before, and it wore the same old smile it had worn back in the game. Albedo must've seen him, as she knelt down almost immediately with her head bowed low. Now that the game had come to life, Ethel felt that Albedo's beauty had been amplified at least tenfold. Her beauty seemed so natural, and yet unnatural at the same time with that wonderfully symmetrical face of hers.

"Rise, Albedo," commanded Ethel.

_Wow, she uses good perfume. It doesn't smell artificial at all, unlike the one worn by my boss back on that shithole of a planet. Is this how a flower smells like? I've always wanted to smell one._

_Perhaps there are flowers outside the Tomb._

"Yes, Lord Ethel," said Albedo, standing up. "Lord Ethel, the Supreme Ones — Lord Momonga and Lord Herohero — are currently surveying the environment using magic. They are expecting you."

"I see. Then, will you be guarding the entrance?" asked Ethel.

"I will, my Lord," affirmed Albedo. "Would Lady Acheron be guarding it too?"

"No, she will return to guard the Royal Suites. Thank you for your efforts, loyal Servants of Nazarick. I trust that you have your Rings of Sustenance?"

"I do, my Lord," Albedo. "And it appears that Lady Acheron has one too."

With that, he turned and began to walk up the flight of stairs, ascending two at a time. In under a minute he was greeted by two tall and imposing doors that appeared to be crafted out of the darkest of metals.

The doors swung open with a well-oiled groan. Ethel paused as his gaze rested on the contents of the room. Then, the demon stepped within, and the doors slammed shut with a mighty rumble.

At the foot of the stairwell, the two guardians had watched the departure of their master with keen eyes.

"Albedo-sama, did you know something?" asked Acheron.

"What is it, Lady Acheron?"

"Lord Ethel told me something very interesting on the way here…"

* * *

**HeroHero | Heteromorphic Race**

[Ancient Black Slime]

**Job:**

One of the Almighty 41 Supreme Beings

**Residence:**

Great Tomb of Nazarick

Room in level 9

 **Alignment** : Neutral Evil

 **Sense of Justice** : -100

 **Racial Level:** 50

Slime (15)

Predator Slime (10)

Shoggoth (10)

Ubbo-Sathla (10)

Elder Black Ooze (5)

**Job Level: 50**

Monk (10)

Summoner (10)

Poison Maker (10)

Elementalist: Acid (10)

Ki Master: Physical (5)

Fighter (5)

 **Total Level:** 100

**Ability Chart:**

**HP:** 100

 **MP:** 75

 **Physical Attack:** 65

 **Physical Defence:** 70

 **Agility:** 65

 **Magic Attack:** 60

 **Magic Defence:** 75

 **Resistance:** 100+

 **Special:** 65

 **Total:** 675+

**Slime Racial Traits**

**?**

**Predator Slime Racial Traits**

**?**

**Shoggoth Racial Traits**

**?**

**Ulbo-Sathla Racial Traits**

**?**

**Elder Black Ooze Racial Traits**

**?**

**Skills**

**?**

**Spells**

[Barrage of Dissolution] - A two-staged 9th tier spell. First, a thick cloud of acidic gas engulfs the target, dissolving it upon contact and inflicting the [Poisoned] and [Corossion] debuffs. Next, the acid spontaneously combusts, inflicting the [On Fire III] debuff.

**?**

**Equipment**

**?**

* * *

**Ethel-Red | Heteromorphic Race**

[Double Edged Sword]

**Job:**

One of the Almighty 41 Supreme Beings

**Residence:**

Great Tomb of Nazarick

Room in level 9

 **Alignment:** Neutral Evil

 **Sense of Justice:** -100

**Racial Level: 35**

Imp (10)

Night Gaunt ( 10)

Avatar of Nyarlathotep (10)

Magnum Innominandum (5)

**Job Level: 65**

Knight (10)

Speedster (10)

Sniper (10)

Javelin Master (10)

Alternative Sniper (10)

Alternative Sniper II (10)

Harbinger (5)

**Ability Chart**

**HP:** 60

 **MP:** 50

 **Physical Attack:** 85

 **Physical Defense:** 60

 **Agility:** 100+

 **Magic Attack:** 55

 **Magic Defense:** 50

 **Resistance:** 100

 **Special:** 100

 **Total:** 660+

**Imp Racial Traits**

?

**Night Gaunt Racial Traits**

_?_

**Avatar of Nyarlathotep Racial Traits**

?

**Magnum Innominandum Racial Traits**

?

**Skills**

?

**Spells**

?

**Equipment**

_[Spear of Judgement]_

_Class:_ Divine

 _Description:_ An 8+ foot long spear that inflicts the [Hellfire V] debuff. Is not affected by gravity, and hence it levitates and can be thrown without any consideration for the parabolic trajectory of a projectile. ?


	3. A New Beginning

**Round Table Room**

THE DEMON STARED at the individuals seated beside one another in the room. He felt a mixture of awe and grief, and stepped within, shutting the heavy doors behind him.

Seated directly across the obsidian table was the Guild Master Momonga. Two pinpricks of reddish-black fire danced where his eyes should be, and his fleshless expression was unreadable. But this was his friend. No matter his appearance, it was still the old Suzuki Satoru that he knew.

Seated on the chair to the immediate left of Momonga was a writhing black mass of slime, the body of the man once known as Hayashi Hironobu.

Ethel-Red waved at them. The undead waved back with a skeletal hand, and so did the slime with a dripping appendage. Ethel looked around. There was nobody else in the room, nobody but his friends.

"Ah, Ethel-san! We were just waiting for you!" called Momonga from across the room.

_His voice is so deep compared to his old one!_

"Sorry for the long wait, guys!" said Ethel as he hurried over to the duo.

"It's fine, Ethel-san. Just sit over here so you can see this," said Herohero.

_Herohero-san's voice sounds accurate to his character. It's not as deep as Momonga's but it sounds vaguely like some kind of gurgling, just like how as a slime his surface is shifting continuously._

_Ah yes, that's the [Mirror of Remote Viewing]_ , thought Ethel-Red as his gaze fell upon the familiar object that levitated on the table, in front of Momonga and Herohero. _As I recall, it's a magic item that allows us to observe any location, known or unknown. Despite its infinite range, low-level anti-search magic is enough to block it._

Ethel-Red sat down to the right of Momonga, who appeared to be controlling the Mirror.

"Found anyone to PK, Momonga-san?" asked Ethel.

_Wow, it's night-time outside, and I can see so many stars! And there's only a single moon, which is also interesting. I once read somewhere that a planet having multiple moons isn't a strange occurrence._

"Don't be ridiculous," said Momonga. "It's a wonder that we found anyone at all."

A curious expression broke out across Ethel's face.

"So someone's here?" he asked. "Aliens?"

"Well, that's what we'd expected at first. I mean, we're on a different planet, after all. I mean, what are the chances of humans evolving on a different planet? But I guess the laws of reality go out of the window when magic works," muttered Herohero.

"So, where are the humans? Have you established contact?" asked Ethel.

"Not far from here, we found a small village inhabited by humans," said Momonga. "We found this when we first began scouting the land with the mirror, and we haven't yet made contact with its inhabitants."

With a wave of his hand, the image reflected in the three-feet wide mirror rapidly changed to that of a small village. It consisted of a series of similar cottages sprawled haphazardly across a low-lying clearing in the forest. A single narrow dirt path was the village's only entrance — and exit — to and from the main road.

Ethel counted twenty-five cottages.

"That's strange. It doesn't appear to have any defenses, but they could just be magical in nature," said Ethel.

"It's possible, but since we're able to observe it using the [Mirror of Remote Viewing], they probably don't even have the lowest-tier of anti-search magic," said Momonga.

"Yep," said Herohero. "That pretty much rules out the possibility of magic-based defenses, unless there's a different system of magic here that we don't know of."

"That makes sense. So, what else have you guys found?" asked Ethel.

"Well, Momonga-san and I counted about 100 villagers residing in this village, which is located several kilometers south-west of the Tomb. There is a massive forest near the Tomb that stretches farther than the eye can see, and we were following this road when you came in," said Herohero.

The scenery depicted in the magical mirror immediately changed to that of a wide, bumpy road. Wide grassland surrounded the dirt road from all sides, and the road itself could fit a maximum of two horse-drawn carriages.

"So yeah, we've been following it for a while now, and we came across this," said Herohero.

The scene changed once again, and this time it displayed a frontal view of a massive fortress city that appeared to be built around a hill. It was a city of spires and domed roofs, of massive walls and dirty roads, of disorder that tended to order as one progressed from the outermost parts to the centerpiece of a castle that stood proudly at the center of it all.

"As you may already know, this city is divided into three zones, separated by concentric walls with what appears to be a castle right in the center," said Herohero. "Unfortunately, the insides of this castle are protected by unknown anti-search magic that outclasses the abilities of the Mirror of Remote Viewing, so we're unable to look within."

"I see. Who do you think lives in the castle?" asked Ethel.

"Who else could it possibly be? The _nobility_ , of course," said Herohero, spitting out the word with sudden virulence that it surprised Ethel. "Those who live unashamedly in comfort while the rest of the city reside in shambles. Look at this! Momonga-san, show him!"

Momonga piloted the Mirror such that it captured a full view of the city. As Ethel's gaze shifted from layer to layer, he noticed that the streets were much cleaner as he moved inwards. The architecture became more intricate and beautiful, culminating in the beautiful villa that stood as a centerpiece.

"Wow, the increases in living standards from the outermost layer to the castle is really obvious," said Ethel.

"So these are _humans_. Why would I be expecting any more?"

"What do you mean, Herohero-san, aren't these obviously humans?" asked Momonga.

"No, that's not what I meant. Wherever there are humans, there will always be the tendency for society to be structured in this manner," sighed Herohero. "Social stratification is marrow-bound to the human race…I think that's what I'm trying to say. Even in a different universe, it turns out this way, and it will always turn out this way, one way or another. I guess your cynicism is vindicated after all, eh, Tabula-san?"

Momonga and Ethel couldn't help but agree with what he'd said, nodding in understanding.

"I wonder why that village was built there in the first place. There doesn't appear to be any natural sources of water, and although the land's apparently fertile, wouldn't it be less risky to join a larger settlement like this city?" asked Ethel.

"Maybe there's something special about this place, like an herb that only grows in this forest or some kind of endangered animal with medicinal properties," suggested Momonga. "Or an animal whose skin can be made into scrolls."

"Well, even if that were the case, we should expect to see more physical defenses around the village to ward off thieves, since they can't even cast the simplest of anti-search spells. And if it really were so valuable that people would move here for it, why isn't there a larger settlement?" said Ethel. "Anyways, it appears that you guys have already found two sources of information about this world."

"I was thinking about either asking for information from the village or the city, but Momonga seems to think that visiting the village might be a safer option than visiting the city. I agree with him. What do you think, Ethel-san?" asked Herohero.

Ethel thought for a moment, scratching his chin with his long fingers.

"Well, there is a higher likelihood of finding stronger individuals in the city compared to the village, and with the possibility that these individuals may be hostile, I'm less inclined to go there. Although we can obtain more information from the city compared to the village, I don't think that it's a good decision to enter the city and interact with the people there without knowing the local customs. We probably won't even understand the language they speak. So, I propose we go to the village, act as if we're travelers from a distant land, which we are, and barter some of our resources for information and books," said Ethel.

"Hmm, I thought the same as Ethel-san. Furthermore, I think it would be wise to gauge their strength before meeting them. Back in YGGDRASIL, we were all level 100. But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't be cautious here as these humans might also be extremely strong. Maybe that's why the village doesn't need any fences. Furthermore, we don't know what they'd think of grotesques like us," said Momonga.

"You're as cautious as ever, Momonga-san," remarked Ethel.

"Well, considering the situation that we've found ourselves in, I'd say that this level of preparation isn't excessive," said Herohero. "How can we gauge their strength?"

"We could go and ask them what tier of spells they can cast. If they are familiar with the concept of levels — and are aware of their own levels — we could ask them about that too," said Ethel.

"Sounds good," said Herohero. "Though that would make it necessary for us to talk to them in person, something I wouldn't want to do immediately. Also, we shouldn't immediately reveal the tier of magic we can use. If we're extremely weak in relation to them, then they might think of attacking us. If we're extremely strong, then they might start thinking that we're gods or something."

"We could check if the village is safe using several Eight-Edge Assassins. After we are given the 'safe' signal, we could then proceed with the rest of the plan and meet with the one in charge of the village," said Ethel. "So, when do you want to begin this operation?"

"We should deploy the Eight-Edge Assassin scouts now, since most of the villagers are asleep at the moment," said Momonga. "I'll have to deploy some of the Eight-Edge Assassins to encircle the village using a [Gate] spell. While you were asleep, I've already deployed Aura to scout the neighboring forest. She's already covered several square kilometers with the help of her magical beasts, but so far, she's found nothing but small animals which pose no threat whatsoever to Nazarick. I'll command her to direct her exploratory force in the direction of the village and surround it."

Ethel was impressed by how well the Guild Master was adapting and handling the situation. Perhaps Satoru's personality and intellect had been boosted by his character's backstory, which had made it rather explicit that Momonga was a military genius of superhuman proportions.

"Do we need escorts?" asked Herohero.

"We could use a Floor Guardian," suggested Ethel. "Preferably the ones from the deeper floors. One with high defense abilities."

"We'll use Albedo as a bodyguard, then," decided Momonga.

"Okay, so where exactly do we teleport to?" asked Herohero.

"Well, to avoid causing a scene, we open a [Gate] about a hundred meters from the village, right about here," explained Momonga, pointing at a spot just behind the tree-line with a skeletal finger. It was nowhere near the main road, as that could ruin any credibility that their story had.

"I take it that we're going to say that we crossed the mountain range and didn't take the main road?" asked Ethel.

"Precisely. Anyways, Aura will be there waiting for us, with her beasts already in formation, surrounding the village, along with the Eight-Edge Assassins. Of course, they'd all be out of sight from the village."

Herohero nodded in agreement, but Ethel had another question.

"And how many Assassins are you going to deploy?" asked Ethel.

"I'll summon about thirty Assassins in groups of five, which makes six groups in total. Along with Aura's beasts, we should be able to cover the perimeter of the village, just behind the tree-line," explained Momonga. "It'll cost some gold, but the price should be worth it in relation to the severity of this situation."

Ethel nodded in agreement, and Herohero found it difficult to disagree with what he'd said.

"So, that's pretty much it," said Momonga. "Lastly, it goes without saying that we should disguise ourselves as humans. I'm able to do so using illusion magic, what about you guys?"

Momonga's ignorance could be excused. Illusion magic that changed one's racial appearance wasn't very useful at preventing heteromorphic players from getting PKed in the game, so it was obvious that nobody really discussed about them.

"Well, I've got the [Perfect Polymorph] spell, which lets me assume the appearance of any of the playable races. Frankly, I'm actually thankful that I unlocked this POS spell," said Herohero.

"POS?" asked Ethel.

"Piece of shit," replied Herohero. "It's only useful against players who are under level 60, despite being a 'perfect' spell. The version that isn't 'perfect' only works up to level 40. The shitty devs added these spells as a means of bettering the heteromorph PK situation, but they didn't do a very good job."

"Well, I have a skill that does just that. Ah, now that I remember, level 60's the limit for most illusion spells," said Ethel. "Is that true, Momonga-san?"

"Yeah, that should be correct," said Momonga. With a wave of his hand, the [Mirror of Remote Viewing] turned off.

"Hey, Momonga-san, there's something I would like to ask you," said Ethel. "Actually, it's more of something that I'd like to do."

"Oh? What is it?" asked Momonga. One of Ethel's gauntlets disappeared, revealing an unnaturally thin forearm that terminated in five long, claw-like nails.

The demon stretched his hands towards Momonga's eyes. The undead flinched as he realized what Ethel was about to do.

"This is so weird," muttered Ethel as his index fingers scratched around the insides of Momonga's vacant orbits. "You don't feel any pain if I do this, do you?"

Goosebumps erupted across his skin as he did so, as it made him think of that time Tabula made him watch a movie in which a man's eyes were gouged out. Ethel shivered sensuously as he fancied himself doing the same thing.

"No, it just feels like someone's covering my eyes. It's…weird. Okay, it's getting annoying," said Momonga. "It's an awkward feeling, like trying to poke a finger into your belly button."

"Ah, alright," said Ethel, withdrawing his fingers.

"How does it feel in your new body? You're the one with the most human appearance among us, after all," asked Herohero.

"Ah, it feels pretty much the same, but I've grown a tail and a pair of wings. It's hard explaining how it feels to have grown entirely new muscles to someone who hasn't undergone it," said Ethel. "What about you, Herohero-san?"

"I feel…better. Slimes don't need to sleep, so I'm never tired. I guess that's the best part," said Herohero.

"Yeah, no joking," said Momonga, and chuckles erupted across the group.

"Also, it feels much more comfortable than being a human. Although I'm still able to feel pain, it's way less intense than a human would experience. I don't need to breathe either. In fact, I'm immortal as an Elder Black Ooze, in that I can't die of old age," said Herohero. "But, well, we're all immortal now. Momonga's already dead, I'm biologically immortal, and Ethel's probably some kind of deity, if I'm correct about Lovecraft."

"Oh right, I forgot to ask something. Momonga, do you have feelings for any of the NPCs?" asked Ethel.

A stunned silence filled the room.

"Huh?"

"I mean, surrounded by so many pretty women must be pretty…stimulating, right? Or do you have feelings only for undead?" asked Ethel.

Momonga's jaw hung open slackly. A green light enveloped him a few moments later.

"They're children, I wouldn't dream of…I mean, no, I don't feel attracted to them at all," muttered Momonga.

"What about you, Herohero-san?"

"Uh…Solution's kind of hot, I guess," said Herohero.

"Would you have said that if you knew that she's a slime?" asked Ethel.

"I guess so," said Herohero. "Ack! Let's change the topic, shall we? Well, given how all three of us no longer need any air to survive, how does going to space sound like? Though…I think there's radiation in space, not to mention the extremes of temperature. Still, the three of us are either maxed out in terms of resistances or extremely close to that, so the latter won't be much of a problem unless a star went supernova in our faces. But radiation might be a problem since it was never a feature in the game."

"Going to space, huh. Well, that might be a possibility in the future, given how we can fly. I've always wanted to go to space. There is a spell that creates an oxygen bubble around the user," recalled Momonga. "In fact, there is even an item that does that."

"Well, if we wanted to build a base on the moon, like they did decades ago, then we could use a bunch of golems since they don't need to breathe," said Ethel. "Though we'd need to focus on technological advancement before we even attempt that."

"And we know what that brings," said Momonga grimly. "This world doesn't seem to have reached the industrial age. If we do gain control over the research and development of new technologies, we must never let it result in the state in which Earth is in."

"The benefits of immortality are clear: if technology capable of polluting the world gets developed during our lifetimes, we'd be able ensure that it is used in a way that doesn't pollute the world for as long as necessary," said Herohero.

"That's if we have the power to do so. Right now, we don't know the first thing about this world. But let's suppose we find out tomorrow that the highest tier of magic that people in this world can cast is tier 2. What do we do in that case?" asked Ethel.

"Taking over the world might be a good idea," suggested Herohero.

A long pause. The slime did not chuckle in recognition of a joke.

"Wait, you're serious?" asked Momonga.

"It's the most logical solution to achieving that goal. Unchecked scientific advancement can and will ruin the world. The only logical solution to eliminating this possibility would be to obtain a means to regulate scientific advancement. The simplest means to this end would be taking over the world," said Herohero plainly.

Silence reigned once again.

"He has a point, you know," mumbled Ethel. "We could, in that event, announce the Great Tomb of Nazarick to be a sovereign nation."

"On whose authority?" questioned Momonga.

"On ours, on our strength alone. If there's anything these savages will bow to, it's strength and resources. Why else do you think that the commoners haven't yet rebelled against their king?" said Herohero.

Ethel hummed in response.

"A utopia. We'll set up a utopia where everyone can live in happiness. Back on Earth, there were few elements of decisiveness in modern warfare. Even outside of wartime, where power could be treated as an abstraction, incomplete power results in imperfections in the system. Only with absolute power can complete control be attained," said Ethel. "And in a medieval world where its inhabitants can only cast spells up to the second tier, the power of Nazarick — our power — is absolute."

•

"Say, I wonder what Ulbert-san would do if this happened to him," said Herohero.

"He'll probably try to take over the world or something," said Momonga. "That'll probably be the first thing he does."

Chuckles once again rippled through the trio.

"Oh, well. So, we're all in favor of everything that we've just agreed on?" asked Ethel, raising his hand.

"I am," said Herohero, raising a slimy appendage.

"I am," said Momonga, raising his hand. "This matter is officially settled, then.

"Also, one last question."

"Hmm?" The ripples on Herohero's exterior changed subtly.

"Ah, yes. I would like to ask whether you're all in favor of finding a way of returning to Earth," said Momonga.

A long pause.

"Uh, guys?" asked Momonga.

"What do you think?" asked Herohero.

His voice was dangerously low and had an almost malicious tone to it.

The atmosphere in the room had so drastically shifted with just the utterance of a single question.

"Uh…Herohero-san?"

•

 _Bam! —_ someone struck the Table with enough force to shatter every bone in a human's body.

"There's no way I'm going back to that shithole!" roared Herohero. A wave of killing intent washed over the room.

The silence was deafening. Momonga looked desperately to Ethel-Red for help, but the demon was staring down at the table. Ethel shook his head, indicating his opposition to what the Guildmaster had proposed.

Heat began to emanate from the tar-black slime as his surface temperature skyrocketed to the point where water would be vaporized instantly.

"Yes, perhaps I will go back to _that_ place, but I'll only agree if I get to keep with my body and all of my powers. Then, I'll kill the CEO of that black company I used to work at, along with all of the sycophants and narcissists who work for him, the same people who have tortured me and held me captive for over a decade. Nothing humans control could possibly kill me, anyways. I've tanked nukes and far worse in YGGDRASIL," said Herohero as he gnashed his nonexistent teeth.

But his temper was smothered as quickly as it had risen. That was not to say that he had an emotional limiter analogous to that of the undead, but it was simply something that had been hardwired into his psyche by years of corporate training.

Herohero looked around the room. The look on Momonga's face was indecipherable, as always, but Ethel was staring at the table with a look on his face that seemed to express sympathy. Herohero took a deep breath. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head.

"I'm sorry for my outburst. It's just…"

Ethel could imagine how the guild member would have looked if he'd chosen a humanoid avatar. That look of shame, the overblown gestures of apology, and tears, perhaps, if he were relating the situation to close friends or a family member afterwards. But all Herohero had was that everchanging surface of pitch. An eye that couldn't cry, a pair of lips that couldn't grin, a mouth that couldn't scream.

"I understand, Herohero-san," said Momonga.

"Same here," added Ethel.

Who in Ainz Ooal Gown couldn't? Perhaps someone like Touch-Me would be outraged at him. Others like Ulbert would be utterly supportive of the cause. If given the chance, he would cast [Grand Catastrophe] on the Imperial Palace, reducing the centuries-old relic to a pile of smoldering rubble.

Nobody in the Round Table Room had any family in the world of 2138. They didn't have any friends outside of the Guild, either. The game was everything they had.

"I will only go back to Earth if it means giving our friends a chance to come to stay in Nazarick, if the NPCs are loyal to their human forms," said Ethel. Herohero and Momonga nodded in agreement.

"That being said, have you tried casting a [Gate] back to Earth, Momonga-san? I know it sounds crazy, but it might work," suggested Ethel.

"That's a great idea! Why haven't I thought of that before! Should we test it out later?" asked Momonga. "We could send some NPCs into the Gate if it did cast as a scouting party."

"Sure. That can wait," said Herohero. "But I'm definitely not going to return to staying on Earth."

"Neither are we," said Momonga, and Ethel nodded. The Guild Master cleared his throat. "Even compared to the average citizen, globally speaking, our standards of living were sub-par. We all lived in apartments a third of the size of those cottages from the village we saw earlier. The air was toxic and could suffocate a man in minutes, and all there was in our lives was working non-stop for more than a day, no, two or three days, with perhaps a few hours of free time if we were lucky. I didn't have anything or anyone to live for, back then, except for YGGDRASIL and my guildmates. But even YGGDRASIL got old at some point, which was why I became inactive. But now, we're faced with the unknown, the danger of a strange new world beyond Nazarick. We have in front of us the prospect of a real adventure," said Momonga, switching on the Mirror of Remote Viewing and displaying the outside world for all to see.

"This is no illusion — it is all real, unlike YGGDRASIL. Therefore, I, Momonga — Guild Master of Ainz Ooal Gown and its Second Seat — formally vote in opposition of all efforts taken towards returning to inhabit the Earth!"

Momonga stood up, his jet-black gown flapping in the breeze. He grabbed the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown and drove it upon the carpeted floor.

"If you have any objections — voice them now!"

The silence was deafening. Ethel stood and spoke up:

"I, Ethel-Red, Twenty-Third Seat of Ainz Ooal Gown, formally vote in opposition of returning to inhabit the Earth."

"I, Herohero, Seventh Seat of Ainz Ooal Gown, formally vote against returning to inhabit the Earth," said the slime.

"It is decided, then. Meeting dismissed," announced Momonga.

The Round Table Room was inundated by a flash of brilliant azure light.

When it had cleared, less than a second later, the Room was once again empty.

* * *

**9th Floor, Great Tomb of Nazarick**

**Twenty Third Royal Suite**

Ethel was famished. Before he logged in to play YGGDRASIL, he had not eaten for one and a half days.

Under normal circumstances, he was tube-fed by his company at most two light meals a day, each a bento consisting of a few mashed crackers, 300 grams of a disgusting protein paste, and 400 ml of recycled water. Over the years, the company's budget for such expenses decreased, and so did the nutritional value of his meals. That being said, the number of hours he worked steadily increased, causing in a decrease in the time he had for essential activities, such as sleeping.

That was the reason he'd become inactive on YGGDRASIL in the first place. The decrease in the nutrition and rest he was getting caused all sorts of health problems, but most of all it had caused horrendous consequences for his real-world reflexes, which he had optimized his entire build for.

The success of those who specialized in the [Alternative Sniper] and [Sniper] class depended massively on their intrinsic reaction time. It was something that could neither be learned online nor bought from the Gachapon.

The ability to complete the classic, triple-staged maneuver — to react to an opponent's presence; aim one's ranged weapon, be it a spear, magic gun, bow or crossbow, at him or her; and fire — in four tenths of a second, placed one's ability at far above the mean of all [Snipers] and [Alternative Snipers].

A minor talent in the grand scheme of things, perhaps a top 50,000 player if they tried hard enough.

If one could consistently complete this sequence of actions in half that time, or within 0.2 seconds, they would be placed in the top 10,000 of all [Snipers] and [Alternative Snipers].

If someone could do so in 0.1 seconds, they would be in the 99.999th percentile of all players who specialized in this build. Players in this range were vanishingly rare genetic anomalies who belonged in the Top 50 Guilds and were placed in the top 1000 of all [Snipers] and [Alternative Snipers].

Peroroncino was an example of a player who hovered around the top 2000-3000 of all [Snipers] and [Alternative Snipers], between the two previous categories. He was able to complete this sequence of actions within 0.17 seconds.

But that was nothing compared to what Ethel could do.

Like every member of Ainz Ooal Gown, Ethel-Red was immensely talented in some domain.

There was Momonga's ability to completely memorize and achieve a competent understanding of the inner workings of over 700 spells, Touch-Me's universal mastery over YGGDRASIL's mechanics, Punnito Moe's strategic genius, and so on.

In his prime, Ethel was able to complete the triple-staged maneuver in 0.1 seconds.

The vast majority of humans simply could not react to such an attack.

In all of YGGDRASIL, there were less than thirty players who could pull off a similar feat. The decrease in the nutritional value of his food and the decrease in the number of hours he slept took a massive toll on his processing speed. For Ethel, a five-hundredth of a second increase in the time it took for him to carry out the maneuver was enough to make him quit for good.

Then there was the issue of aim. His aim had been superb, and his headshot rate hovered around 99.98%, which was one of the best in the game. But the decrease in his sleep hours caused lapses in concentration that were impossible to prevent, and so his headshot rate steadily decreased to the point where he was gradually overtaken by more than a hundred players in the world rankings.

He remembered watching a video posted online a few years ago. A top 1000 player tracked him down and killed him in a duel while he was out grinding. A shocking tenth of a second's lapse in the time it took for him to react to an incoming attack had caused him to throw his Spear after his opponent fired their bow, by which time it was already too late.

The comments were truly vicious. For years, he had reigned in the top 5 of all Sniper related classes, and at some point, had managed to maintain his position as number 1 for three consecutive months. His username had been discussed in various YGGDRASIL circles with absolute awe and reverence, but it amazed him how quickly they'd turned on him in the months preceding the video's release.

In a fit of rage, he deactivated his YGGDRASIL account and stayed inactive for over a month, causing him to drop to number 354 in the rankings. After this episode of inactivity, he rejoined briefly, reactivating his account, but soon disappeared a few days later.

That was where the story of the legend known as 'Ethel-Red' came to an abrupt and permanent conclusion.

He'd even exceeded Touch-Me, but only in terms of reaction time and, in certain situations, tactical ability. While Touch-Me was rich and could afford lessons taught by private martial arts instructors, Ethel could only learn what he could from crappy online videos that he watched in his spare time.

In the end, he practiced an awkward mish-mash of Historical European Martial Arts (HEMA) and a series of invented, no, improvised moves.

This was precisely why the [Message] he was now hearing caused a cold sweat to break out across his skin.

\+ Could you say that again, Cocytus? +

There was a huff of frosty air on the other end.

\+ MY LORD, I APOLOGIZE FOR MY LACK OF MANNERS. AS YOU ARE THE ONLY REMAINING WARRIOR OF THE 41 SUPREME BEINGS, I HUMBLY…INVITE YOU TO A FRIENDLY DUEL. +

_Shit! I might be a level 100 warrior with great strength, but without mastering any martial arts, how am I supposed to impress Cocytus of all people? Even if I beat him without using any well-known moves, he won't respect me as a warrior! And I can't decline this invitation because that's going to leave a bad impression on him!_

\+ I see. Then, as the one being challenged, I believe that I have the right to determine the location of the duel. Is that correct? +

Or so that was how it worked in YGGDRASIL's unique etiquette.

_Think, think! Which location benefits my superior speed?_

\+ AFFIRMATIVE, LORD ETHEL. THAT IS THE HONORABLE RULE THAT MY CREATOR, WARRIOR TAKEMIKAZUCHI BELIEVED IN. +

_That's right, the coarse sand in the Amphitheatre increases the friction and thus the grip my boots have against the ground, giving me more control over my speed. It's also larger than the dojo, meaning that I get to take full advantage of my speed._

\+ Well, I will meet you at the Sixth Floor Amphitheatre in ten minutes. I am looking forward to this duel. +

\+ THANK YOU FOR GRANTING THIS SELFISH REQUEST OF MINE, LORD ETHEL. I AWAIT YOUR ARRIVAL. +

_What? Does that mean that he's there already? I hope he isn't impatient!_

With that, the connection was severed.

Ethel glanced frantically around the colossal interiors of his room, as though an answer was written on its walls. He let out a heavy sigh. It was too late to learn any new moves now, but he could still make use of the time to practice his old ones.

As he wasn't very good at keeping track of the time, Ethel took out something from the air. It was a straight golden plate that bent tightly around his wrist when he put it on. Displayed on the plate were numbers that were increasing every moment.

It was a watch, obviously.

Ethel began to press a few buttons that were disguised cleverly as nondescript bumps on the thin edge of the golden plate.

"Ethelll-saaaaan! I'm gonna set the time!"

The sweet voice of a child rang out in his room. With how high-pitched and sugary it was, it almost seemed forced.

Embarrassedly, Ethel covered the watch immediately with his fingers, as if he'd just gotten exposed for playing a H-game at work.

But his embarrassment soon turned to regret and a deep, painful longing as he lifted his fingers the next moment, recalling who the voice belonged to.

Ethel recalled the first offline meeting of Ainz Ooal Gown. That was several years ago, and, being someone nearly devoid of social skills, he was surprised at how well he got along with Bukubukuchagama, the talented voice actress who voiced the line that had rang out just now, and her brother, Peroroncino, who possibly had the best aim, as an archer, in the guild.

Even during the period of inactivity, they still remained in contact, chatting on the phone once every three days at around the same time. Peroroncino had joked about their closeness ever since they'd met, but Bukubukuchagama and Ethel-Red had both insisted in private that their relationship was platonic.

But now, even if he wanted to declare his feelings for her — if he had any in the first place — there was no way he could ever meet them again, though there was the immensely improbable possibility that they'd been playing outside of Nazarick on alt accounts at the time of the shutdown. Even so, there was the possibility that they had been transported to a different world.

Ethel preferred not committing to such futile lines of baseless speculation. They were probably gone forever, and nothing could change this. But although they were gone, they could not be forgotten.

Tabula Smaragdina, Momonga, Ulbert-Alain Odle, Bukubukuchagama, Herohero, Peroroncino, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Touch-Me. These were the names of the ones in his inner circle, the names of the beings with whom he'd spent the most memorable hours of his miserable life with. Even within the tight-knit guild, these were the people who he was exceptionally close to.

He glanced at the dark wood bookshelf that leaned against the wall. Propped up on its shelves were numerous photos taken during their adventures, reminders of a golden era.

These photographs were framed in enchanted picture frames, each crafted using some of the highest-ranking metals in the game. Each case could withstand several full-powered blows from the Spear of Judgement before breaking, and as such they were worth a good price, though they were of no value in comparison with the priceless photographs they contained.

•

Heart pacing, he donned his armor in an instant.

In a way, it resembled Shalltear's Legendary-Class Armor, but this was a Divine-Class item, and it was far less extravagant, being optimized for speed and agility. Counter intuitively, the armor granted him increased speed and agility, a result of it being jam-packed with enchantments.

He did not don his helmet. It was only used for exploring hazardous environments and added extra weight.

Slowly, he withdrew a longsword from his item box, examining it closely in the meantime. The sword's cruciform hilt terminated in what was perhaps the divine-class item's only explicit display of value — an ornate Apoithakarah crystal set in place of a pommel.

Light shone faintly from the silvery, diamond-shaped blade that grew from the other end of the hilt. Under the bright, midday sun, the Star Silver blade would have been difficult for the unaided eye to look at. In the pitch darkness of Ethel's room, it gave off a warm, moderate glow.

The length of the blade exceeded the height of the first-floor guardian, and it alone was heavier than what three men could carry, but Ethel raised it steadily with one hand.

" _Daybreak_ ," Ethel muttered the sword's name. Its hilt was warm to the touch, a side effect of it being jam-packed with a certain enchantment.

The room was relatively empty, with two massive bookshelves on the far end and, to its left, a mahogany furniture set that included a square dining table and two chairs on opposing ends. To the right of the dining table, on the opposite end of the room, was a baby grand piano that sparkled with an ebony finish. Much of the flooring had been carved from a single boulder of Carrara marble, but a carpet had been laid underneath his bed.

Smooth and awfully luxurious, but terrible for practice.

He fell into a relaxed guard stance and faced the far end of his room, letting the edge of the raised blade settle on his right shoulder, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Ethel tensed his muscles and tightened his grip around the dragon-skin hilt of the sword, his eyes converging upon the space where the blade had the highest probability of striking, and a wave of killing intent washed over the room.

Without warning, the blade struck out, a silver shimmer that the human eye simply could not track.

The sound generated by the passage of the blade was not far from the lash of a bullwhip. Ethel was startled by the noise, but the passage of the blade did not end there. It completed a wide, glimmering arc in the darkness of the room as he surged forward and came to a halt instantly as it arrived at the end of the slash.

Pleased, Ethel sheathed _Daybreak_ with a flourish, and continued to stare blankly at the bookcase that stood ahead of him.

_That didn't happen in the game. There was no such thing as a 'sonic boom' effect._

_Again!_

He unsheathed the blade in a flash, slashing sidelong and cutting the empty air before him. Then Ethel, twenty-third seat of Ainz Ooal Gown, fell back into the stance as before. He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled. His breathing came to a halt eventually.

Moments later, the blade fell with deadly speed.

This time, it did not stop, but made a vertical loop around the left side of his body, guided by the passage of his arms as it rotated fluidly. It passed above and around his head and slashed the air in front of him a second time.

Pleased, Ethel fell back into the same stance that he began with. It was just a simple exercise, but if he couldn't replicate it as he did back in his old body, then there was no way that he could carry out any advanced techniques, let alone impress Cocytus.

•

In YGGDRASIL, there were two informal terms used to establish a dichotomy of player types.

The terms were 'tryhard' and 'casual'.

It was not difficult to decipher the meaning of these terms without any prior information, at least in the common parlance, but they held a slightly different meaning when used to describe physical attackers.

People like Touch-Me, Warrior Takemikazuchi, and Ethel-Red were the so-called 'tryhards'.

Most players were 'casuals'.

One might think that the distinction was simply one that stemmed from the difference in the amount of effort one put into the game, and thus, skill.

They were not wrong in that regard, but the terms had a more nuanced meaning in the context of physical attackers.

Players like Touch-Me and Ethel-Red often spent long hours in practicing martial arts from real life. With their mastery over such systems of combat, combined with insane amounts of physical talent, they were able to rise to the top 50 of all physical attackers.

An overwhelming majority of players — those who belonged between ranks 100,000 and 1,000,000 of all who had a base physical attacker job class — did not practice any form of martial arts. They were known as 'causals' for that very reason.

Gradually, as one moved up the rankings, they would begin to see more and more players who practiced at least one form of martial art — no matter their proficiency — until one could definitely conclude that there were no more 'casuals' past a certain threshold that was constituted of a range of ranks.

In the context of physical attackers, this threshold was estimated by Touch-Me to be located between ranks 40,000 and 50,000.

However, it was rather obvious that technique wasn't everything. Talent was both a means to achieve a better technique and therefore, 'skill', and talent itself also made up a good portion of a player's 'skill' in the form of reaction time and dexterity.

Nevertheless, between two players of barely comparable reaction time, the difference between the faster and slower one could be made up for by expertise in martial arts. Even more so if the players knew the fighting styles of each other, as that would make the opponent's moves predictable, and therefore, easy to defend against.

This was why in a match-up between a well-rounded World Champion such as Touch-Me and an incredible specialist such as Ethel-Red — whose preternatural real-world reflexes granted him a single advantage compared to the several others that Touch-Me possessed — the latter would only emerge victorious twice or thrice out of ten times.

•

No matter how hard Ethel practiced, he couldn't get rid of the lingering anxiety in his heart. He'd always suspected that Cocytus was far more skilled than he was. After all, he was designed by Warrior Takemikazuchi to be the supreme expression of a warrior, both physically and mentally.

 _I think that should be fine_ , thought Ethel as he made a final cut through the empty air. _I've exhausted most of the techniques I've learned or invented, but I really have no exact idea as to how Cocytus fights. I know he's a kendo master, but I've not learned anything about that particular martial art in a long time._

_Geez, I'm really going in blind here. I don't know most of his skills, and neither do I know much about his resistances, except that he's exceptionally resistant towards ice while his resistances towards fire aren't very impressive, at least in my eyes._

_That's good. What little spells I know are mainly based on fire and hellfire, as well as skills oriented towards delaying high-level opponents, so I'll focus on that. Plus, my sword and spear both inflict the [Hellfire] debuff, so it seems that I counter him to a moderate extent._

Ethel glanced at his watch. Four minutes and thirty-four seconds remaining, it said, but to Ethel it had felt like an eternity.

"I guess my perception of time is even more twisted than it was before, huh," he mumbled. "I might as well go there early to leave a good impression."

Without a second talk, Ethel activated the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown and disappeared in a flash of azure light.

* * *

**9th Floor, Great Tomb of Nazarick**

**Seventh Royal Suite**

"Huh? What's this?"

Herohero's voice rang out loud and clear in the colossal room. The massive, motionless puddle of tar-black ooze surged upright in excitement, becoming a tall, expressionless mound that resembled a gently bubbling fountain of oil.

\+ Cocytus wanted a friendly duel with him, and I thought that it would be interesting to examine his combat ability. Besides, it'll be a fun way to kill time before sunrise. + came Momonga's voice.

\+ Hmm, alright then, it's not like I have anything fun to do right now. + Herohero mumbled.

Activating the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown, his surroundings warped into that of the VIP Lounge of the Amphitheatre.

Beyond the intricate, black-stone balustrades of the seat box was a massive swathe of neatly pressed sand. Six stories up in the air, Herohero could see everything in the gladiatorial pit.

Standing in the center of the pit was a cyan giant clad in a golden breastplate and golden vambraces that enclosed all four of his forearms. On his two sturdy legs he wore silver anklets — not that his current panoply was in the least bit effective. It was more of a ceremonial uniform reserved for duels such as these.

Cocytus, an NPC boasting incredible defense and the highest physical attack power notwithstanding one other individual.

Ethel-Red, the one with the best aim and reflexes in Ainz Ooal Gown - one who was often joked to be an FPS player instead of an roleplayer due to his incredible aim.

_I wonder where Ethel is. Is he behind one of those gates?_

"Greetings, esteemed Lord Herohero," came the composed voice of a woman from his right.

"Ah, just Herohero would suffice, Albedo," insisted the slime embarrassedly.

"Oh! Lord Herohero has arrived!" came the sugary voice of a child from his left. It was Aura, and Herohero could see her brother seated right beside her.

"H-Herohero-sama! Thank you for visiting!" stuttered Mare nervously, but Herohero could see the joy in his unmatching eyes.

"Hello, everyone!" came Herohero's response.

_Sigh, if only Bukubukuchagama-san was here. I wonder how they feel about losing their creator._

Herohero saw Momonga next. The Guild Master was seated in a massive throne, a few seats to the right of Mare. He gave the slime a generous wave, and Herohero reciprocated the gesture.

He couldn't see anyone else in the VIP box, but the spectator's seats were packed with golems of all shapes and sizes.

"Aura, you're up," came the chilly voice of Momonga.

"Yes, Lord Momonga! Hiya!" Aura vaulted over the black-stone rail and made a back flip down the six-story fall, landing with perfect form. As she walked briskly towards the combatants, Herohero noticed that she was holding a rod-like object that resembled a microphone in her right hand.

"May I have your attention, gentlemen and ladyyy! The challenger we have today is the esteemed weapons master of Nazarick, the Floor Guardian of the 5th Floor, Coooocytus!" announced Aura, and a thunderous applause seemed the shake the very foundations of the Amphitheatre.

Herohero looked around and noticed that the golems, who had been stationary until now, had begun clapping.

"Facing him is the fastest and deadliest sniper in all of Nazarick! Please welcome…the Supreme Being Lord Ethel-Red!"

_Fastest sniper in all of Nazarick? Indubitably. Fastest being in Ainz Ooal Gown? Definitely. Fastest being in all of Nazarick? Maybe. Deadliest in all of Nazarick?_

_Definitely not_ , thought Herohero.

Opposite Cocytus, a portcullis rose.

A figure emerged from the lightless tunnel it guarded.

He was tall and moved quickly, stopping just shy of the light.

Blood-red armor enclosed a body that seemed disproportionately thin for its height. His androgynous face wore a frown and death's pallor, and his eyes bore the indifferent darkness of ink. His raven-black hair would have reached his forearms, but it was tied up in a simple ponytail, and his protruding ears were long and knife-like, like an elf's.

Taking a deep breath, the figure stepped into the light, his lightweight boots sinking shallowly into the sand. Then, he trudged towards the cyan giant expressionlessly and without hesitation.

Momonga noticed that Cocytus had drawn the _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ , but Ethel had not drawn _Daybreak_ , which remained sheathed at his waist in a lightweight Acreylium scabbard. Was this another one of his strategies? Would Cocytus view this as disrespectful?

The earsplitting applause shook the colosseum once again, but Ethel held up a gauntleted hand, silencing it immediately.

"MAY I PLEASE STATE A REQUEST OF MINE BEFORE WE BEGIN, LORD ETHEL?"

Cocytus' voice boomed over the frosty air.

"Yes," came the simple reply.

"MAY I ASK THAT YOU DO NOT HOLD BACK, MY LORD?" asked Cocytus. "TO THE GREATEST EXTENT POSSIBLE, THAT IS."

Ethel nodded.

"THANK YOU, LORD ETHEL."

There was no reply. His face was rock-cold, unreadable.

Momonga knew that was characteristic of Ethel. Right before a battle, his voice would turn cold and bland, and his words would be harsh and blunt. He would explain much later that this was simply a result of him diverting RAM from the 'emotions' faculty to the 'logic' faculty on instinct — so as to achieve a greater performance on the latter — using the metaphor of a computer.

"Now then, we have a reading of the rules by Lord Momonga!" said Aura.

The Guild Master's voice echoed around the Amphitheatre.

"Combatants, I will be using [Life Essence] to view your HP, so refrain from casting any spells that may interfere in this process. Once your HP dips reaches critical levels, you are out! The last one eliminated, wins! You may also _surrender_!"

Cocytus flinched. That word was anathema to his ears and mind and soul. Ethel didn't feel the same.

"You may use spells and melee weapons, but summoning minions is not allowed! The use of healing potions and spells is forbidden, and so are attacks that are guaranteed to cause the death of your opponent. That last part applies especially to you, Cocytus! Now then…"

The two figures entered their stances. Ethel noticed that Cocytus had gotten into the Chūdan stance. Possibilities raced through his head in a maddening torrent. Adrenaline spiked his blood, and the world slowed down.

"Begin!"

But there was no charge.

The two figures stared silently at each another, their swords prepared to strike at a moment's notice.

_I should be focused on ending this fight as soon as possible before my stamina runs out, since Cocytus' stamina is far superior to mine. In other words, I must deal the most damage in the shortest time while conserving my stamina as much as possible._

_Alright, a staring match isn't going to get—_

"IF YOU WON'T ATTACK, THEN I'LL MAKE A MOVE FIRST!"

Cyan flashed like lightning as Cocytus surged forward, clearing the twenty meters at speeds the human eye simply could not follow.

Ethel's hand flew to _Daybreak's_ hilt in an instant.

For a moment, it seemed to Cocytus that there was a look of surprise on the Supreme Being's face. _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ fell with deadly speed, bisecting the afterimage of someone who was no longer there.

"!"

Cocytus rotated with preternatural flexibility and swung his sword sidelong to the left of Ethel, who easily parried it with _Daybreak_ faced downwards in a karambit's grip. The titanic clash of the blades rang out crisp and clear across the battlefield. Both of them held the hilts of their swords tightly with one hand, pushing against the other, and there was no sign of faltering on either side.

"IMPRESSIVE SPEED, LORD ETHEL. AS EXPECTED OF THE SUPREME ONE," said Cocytus.

 _He talks too much,_ thought Ethel. _Now then, it's time for a test of his speed._

Ethel rotated like an acrobat and flipped over the massive blade it completed its skyward arc. Cocytus whipped his armoured tail at the fleeting image of his lord — its spiked tip made the familiar crack of Aura's bullwhip, only several times louder.

Striking nothing.

A flash of silver. Cocytus struck to the left in alarm. Nothing but empty air.

Then, as quickly as the realization struck him, Cocytus felt a searing pain in his right leg. For a moment, his Lord had moved at a speed beyond his visual acuity. In the corner of his eye, he could see a tiny gash in his exoskeleton. Flames so dark they seemed to be cut from darkness leaked like blood from the wound, and another wave of soul-tearing pain washed over Cocytus.

The debuff only lasted a few seconds, and at the end of the ordeal, the effect on the Guardian's HP was as tiny as the wound that Ethel had inflicted.

Another blow came from the right. It scythed at Cocytus' neck, but the Vermin Lord interrupted it with an upswing of his sword. The blades clashed with the force of a bomb blast, sending a shockwave that ripped across the arena. Ethel disengaged at once, and a pair of gigantic leathery wings sprouted from his leaping form. They flapped once, propelling him dozens of meters away from the Knight of Niflheim, then folded back into his armour neatly.

"YOU WON'T GET AWAY THAT EASILY!" declared Cocytus, sprinting towards the demon. Ethel sheathed his sword and withdrew the _Spear of Judgement_ in an instant.

Every stride Cocytus took was bereft of the clumsiness that the Vermin Lord's appearance connotated. Cocytus charged with a graceful gait that covered several meters with each stride and brought him incredible speed.

The muscles in Ethel's right arm and torso were loose with practice as he fell into a standard stance. His grip tightened around the massive Spear. Ethel reared back and threw it with incredible force and pinpoint accuracy at the fast approaching figure.

The spear roared out of Ethel's grip at speeds that Cocytus struggled to follow. It shot through the air like a bar of golden light — weightless and divine — and an ear-splitting _bang_ ripped across the grounds of the Amphitheatre.

It had crossed his line of sight in an instant. Everything slowed down to a crawl as Cocytus sped up, and every instinct in his mind screamed 'Death' as he saw the Spear approach.

Cocytus swung the _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ in a skyward arc, just as the head of the Spear came within a few inches of his armored torso.

Pain radiated across the left side of his body as the spear rammed through inches of solid exoskeleton.

It had slashed across the outer edge of his left thigh, leaving a wound several inches long and a few inches deep. Cocytus' tender white flesh was bare and bleeding, and just like before, it was ravaged by flames so dark they appeared to be cut from darkness itself. Its route had been averted by several inches to the left, owing to Cocytus' incredible reactions, but the damage had been done.

Despite his massive health pool, Cocytus knew full well that a direct blow to the center of his thigh would have greatly inconvenienced him.

Yet again, Cocytus shrugged off the pain and charged.

Ethel frowned. The immense distance between Cocytus and himself had given the latter sufficient time to react to the spear. This miscalculation could not be repeated. Equilibrium had to be made between distance and speed.

"[Life Essence]," mumbled Ethel. A small fraction of the cyan giant's health had been depleted, but it was still decreasing at a moderate pace from the [Hellfire] debuff, along with [Interrupt Regeneration V], which completely nullified the target's ability to regenerate HP.

His hand snapped up in an arcane gesture, and the golden Spear flew and slapped into his palm as Cocytus rushed within range of him.

Ethel watched as the cyan giant's feet pounded against the golden sand, as the massive sword swung down in a diagonal arc. In a flash, he blocked the blow with a skyward parry, imparting a wave of force across the golden shaft of the spear.

Cocytus was sent staggering backwards, and it was then that Ethel charged. The Spear of Judgement described a dazzling halo of crimson and gold as it spun through the air, and its massive blade scythed at the Guardian's neck. The Vermin Lord recovered instantly. _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ flashed through the air in a downward arc and struck opposing metal. A single note rang out, crisp and clear.

Cocytus increased the pressure on the _Spear of Judgement_ , and Ethel's boots sunk deeper into the sand as he resisted the titanic forces of a hydraulic press. Both blades remained locked, and Ethel grunted in rising fatigue as Cocytus poured more strength into the hilt of his sword. Finally, he disengaged once more, leaping a dozen meters back with the help of his powerful legs.

"THAT WON'T WORK!" Cocytus dashed at him at speeds even Albedo struggled to follow, smashing a crater underfoot as the distance between them shrank to _zero_ in an instant. Ethel's eyes widened as he searched frantically for a solution.

"Outer God Aspect: Sanity Disruption!"

Cocytus lunged forward to intercept the skill. His sword scythed sidelong at Ethel's chest. There was a flash of silver, and _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ struck opposing metal.

•

In that instant, the world turned black.

It was as though he'd been ejected into space.

That same, malignant darkness filled his vision everywhere he looked, and his seven limbs flailed about helplessly. Fear screamed into his mind, an all-consuming, absolute terror that was akin to the crushing sensation he'd felt in the meeting with the guardians hours earlier when the Guild Master amplified his aura with the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.

No, it was probably worse than that. A lesser being would've died on the spot if they had even dared to glance at the scene. From the VIP lounge, Albedo, Mare, and Aura could feel goosebumps erupting across their skin, but Herohero and Momonga only felt a chill. The golems were equally unaffected.

The attack did not damage the target on a physical level. Rather, it annihilated it on a spiritual one, erasing its soul from existence, as did many other of Ethel's skills. Only high-level resurrection magic could restore a being vanquished by this elite skill.

Cocytus could feel the darkness gnawing away at his being. The damage done was little, but the pain rising by the second. It was not an offensive skill, after all, but one that threw the enemy off balance just for Ethel to escape. Cocytus steeled his nerves and took in a deep breath, staring into the darkness.

He scythed at it. Nothing but shadow. His blade met no resistance.

Cocytus fell into a guard stance, listening for footsteps against the coarse sand. Nothing. He swung _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ in a wide figure of eight. The darkness made no resistance again, but the response was immediate. A fist smashed into Cocytus' face with more than enough strength to shatter every bone in the human body, staggering him.

But Cocytus recovered in an instant, and suddenly he could suddenly hear the demon's ragged breathing. The darkness panted like a dog. He did not know where. The sound came from all directions. Cocytus made an estimate of the demon's location and swung his sword sidelong at it, but the blade was smashed away in an instant.

This was getting annoying.

"ENOUGH OF THIS SORCERY! [FROST BARRAGE]!"

Then Cocytus, the Knight of Niflheim, unleashed a greatly amplified version of his sealed aura at full blast. An arctic gale ripped towards Ethel at speeds that made a hurricane look slow. A torrent icicles, each as long and sharp as _Daybreak_ shot at him with no pause. An icicle struck him square in the chest and staggered him. The damage it did was negligible — but still enough to interrupt the skill — and the darkness cleared in an instant.

Cocytus spotted his target and surged forward. _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ scythed at Ethel's chest with deadly speed, and the demon swerved around in desperation to meet the blow with the Spear of Judgement.

The Vermin Lord was quicker this time, and the absurdly sharp blade punched clean through the intervening vambrace, cutting through four millimeters of divine Scarletite.

But it did not stop there. The blade perforated his armored undercoat, dragging through his arm and severing skin and muscle. Ethel's forearm was open to the bone, and his face twisted into an agonized rictus.

Gasps rang out among the VIP lounge at the sight of Cocytus' blackened, blood-slicked blade. Speckles of black blood dotted the golden sand as _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ completed its sidelong arc, and Ethel leapt back in pain.

Blood oozed like tar from the slit in Ethel's armor and continued to drip at a clockwork pace onto the sand, budding off at his fingertips. The searing pain could be likened to a hot knife against a nerve, but Ethel remained calm and stared down his opponent, the beating of his powerful heart hammering hard against his temples. The wound had already begun to heal, and the pain died within seconds as he fought it down.

He gave a thumbs up, indicating that he was alright, and that the duel should proceed. Cocytus nodded, heaving a sigh of relief through his mandibles.

 _It's time to get serious, then_ , thought Ethel, his grip tightening around his spear.

Cocytus charged.

Ethel was faster.

He hurled the Spear at the approaching giant with as much strength as he could muster, but Cocytus smashed it cleanly out of the air with his odachi.

_He's learning!_

The cyan giant closed the gap in an instant. _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ swung upwards in a devastating attack designed to unseam Ethel from groin to chin. The demon's hand flew to _Daybreak_ 's hilt and the incoming blow was met with a sidelong flash of silver. Blade met blade with a thunderous clash, and the duo traded dozens of blows in the blink of an eye. Their sheer speed defied perception, and to a spectating human they, along with their masters, would have appeared as nothing more than a flurry of light — one cerulean, the other red — or perhaps nothing at all.

Cocytus was the greatest swordsman in all of Nazarick. Every blow was swung at his opponent with perfect form, each a godlike blur of inconceivable speed.

But regardless…

…He could not land a hit.

Ethel dodged and parried them all.

Yet, faced with a rapidly diminishing stamina pool against a four-armed opponent who was considerably larger than him, he was finding it practically impossible to land a good hit on Cocytus, and the most he managed were a few minor cuts which did little to dent his opponent's massive health pool.

He had never gone up against a four-armed player before, let alone one with such prodigious skill. Cocytus' clever usage of his four limbs and tail made it so that, despite Ethel's overwhelming speed advantage, he could never get a hit in using his current techniques which were optimized for regular players.

Furthermore, the location was anything but optimal for Ethel. If he had truly wanted to defeat Cocytus, then he'd have chosen a mountain range, but there was no such location in Nazarick. The Eighth Floor might've been the next best choice, but that would be truly unfair to Cocytus, given its sheer size, and plus, Momonga had forbidden entry to the Eighth Floor. Ethel did not want to give himself an overwhelming disadvantage, but he did not want Cocytus to win easily either.

So, he had chosen the Amphitheatre. Compared to other locations, the odds of beating Cocytus were roughly even, with Cocytus having a slight advantage using the current rules.

But there was something else that Ethel had feared, and it was a scenario that seemed more and more as though would become a reality with every passing moment.

A stalemate.

Like most other PKers, Ethel disliked stalemates. Most of the time, the lack of decisiveness was a sign of poor planning and a lack of teamwork. However, this was different. Whether or not he and Cocytus fought to a stalemate was irrelevant. Hopefully, he'd left a good impression on him about his skill with the spear and sword.

Nevertheless, he felt that there was nothing to lose if he tried to squeeze out a victory. He should have gone for a victory right from the start — when he had plenty of stamina — if he'd wanted to trade blows with Cocytus directly.

That was because his odds of winning in such a match were not five out of ten times, but three out of ten times. To begin with, he was already far less skilled with the sword than Cocytus was. And then came the Vermin Lord's expert use of his five limbs - tail included. It was only when he sniped him from the edges of the arena that his odds of winning went up to five out of ten times.

There was no choice, then, if he wanted a victory now. He had to 'cheat' a little using some of his skills. He was already pushed to his limits, at least, as far as his sword skills went, in fighting Cocytus, but the insect warrior was able to defend against him because of his four arms and tail and his superior skills in this domain.

_Now then, it's time to finish this. I don't recall having used this skill in close-ranged melee before, but I've seen videos of people doing so in one of those information bundles that I bought, so there's no reason it wouldn't work._

"Skill: Greater Speed Boost!"

Ethel activated a skill used for sniping long-ranged targets and Ethel blocked a downward slash with all the strength he could muster. The weapons clashed with enough force to send a shockwave blasting the nearby sand away, and in an instant, Cocytus had drawn a second weapon. The azure blade of _Decapitation Fang_ glistened under the light of the false moon, and Cocytus began to fall into a guard stance.

Ethel was faster.

He surged forward, and his right foot slammed against the coarse unyielding sand. Cocytus saw a fast-approaching halo of white and immediately swung the _God Slaying Emperor Blade_ at it, while _Decapitation Fang_ fell into a blocking stance.

But he was not quick enough. Ethel flipped over the odachi like an acrobat and Cocytus felt a new searing pain across his right thigh. _Decapitation Fang_ crashed down towards the afterimage of someone who was no longer there, and Ethel came to an immediate halt a dozen meters behind Cocytus.

The Vermin Lord was stunned by this sudden burst of speed that transcended his own. Shizu's bullets would've seemed slow and useless in his presence. Even without the use of an enhancement skill, Ethel was lightning.

A long ugly gash carved down the length of his right thigh. Flaming drops of green blood speckled the sand, and Cocytus fought down the pain as he swiveled around to meet his adversary, but Ethel was already moving.

"Skill: Dimensional Pierce!"

The _Spear of Judgement_ was wreathed in mirage — the space that surrounded the blade was torn asunder. Ethel had used a skill reserved for the second-highest tier of Alternative Snipers — those possessing the penultimate level four of [Harbinger], one of the deadliest final job classes that succeeded the [Alternative Sniper II] job class.

It was not Ethel's trump card, but it was possibly the second most dangerous skill in his arsenal because of how easily it could bypass the defenses of virtually all armor sets in the game.

His grip tightened around the Spear's shaft. He poured his strength into it, drew back, and let go. Everything happened in less than a hundredth of a second.

The Spear shot out of the demon's hand like a beam of golden light. It struck the Vermin Lord's armored thigh and punched straight through it like a sword through smoke. While all this happened, Cocytus threw his halberd with every ounce of strength that he possessed at the demon.

For a moment, there was a look of surprise on Ethel's face. He'd been expecting an attempt at defending the blow, but Cocytus had betrayed his expectations, choosing to counterattack.

_Had he predicted my attacking with [Dimensional Pierce] boosted with [Greater Speed Boost]? He must've refused to block it pre-emptively as he knew that I would aim it at somewhere else instead!_

He tried to turn, but it was too late. The demon's face twisted into a rictus of pain as the halberd stabbed through more than an inch of divine Scarletite and sliced sidelong across his shoulder. Black blood as dark and thick as oil dripped from the gash and dotted the sand, and Ethel's shoulder was open to the bone. The Scarletite pauldron had been sliced apart by Cocytus' halberd, which had embedded itself in nearly two meters of stone behind him.

He glanced at Cocytus. The warrior had clamped a hand on the horrendous wound to staunch the flow of blood. The _Spear of Judgement_ could be seen lying on the sand dozens of meters away, having lost its mental connection with its master the moment he was injured.

The injury on Cocytus' thigh was immense and deep, and the Vermin Lord's clear green blood streamed down his leg with abandon, and Ethel knew with startling clarity that he'd lost.

•

He turned to the ground, gnashing his teeth as another wave of pain crashed over him. He made a subtle gesture at the Spear, and it rose from the ground and slapped neatly into its master's palm.

Cocytus' wound was one of the cleanest he'd seen in his life. [Dimensional Pierce] worked similarly in principle to the tenth-tier spell [Reality Slash], where the tearing of spacetime was involved. However, unlike [Reality Slash], [Dimensional Pierce] made a small incision in spacetime at the edges of the weapon, an incision that deepened depending on the direction the weapon took.

It was an immensely potent skill that overwhelmed all but the strongest of armor sets — those that were divine-tier and above. That was why Cocytus' exoskeleton, which belonged to the middle-tier of legendary-class armor, had been cleaved through in an instant.

However, it was not the shredding of spacetime that dealt the bulk of the damage. Ethel viewed the skill as merely a means to an end — a technique to bypassing the defenses of powerful armor — that allowed to Spear to enter its victim and unleash its potent debuffs, much like how the depleted uranium tip of an armor piercing high-explosive shell allowed it to penetrate its target and detonate within.

Then, Cocytus spoke.

"DO YOU WISH TO CONTINUE, MY LORD?"

Ethel knew that his HP had taken quite a dip after that last injury. The latent regeneration provided by his high-tier demon classes only replenished his health at a painstakingly slow 0.5 units per second. However, given enough time, it could regenerate all of his HP, unlike most other races, which had a faster rate of regeneration but capped the maximum amount of HP regenerated in one go.

_Well, that ability's completely useless in a duel, but it was useful depending on the context as it saved me a ton of healing potions after a boss fight, when my HP was really low. Does that mean that I'll be able to regenerate an arm or a leg in this world, only that it'll take really long?_

"Life Essence," murmured Ethel.

_Cocytus' HP is slightly less than three quarters of what it had used to be. That's as expected. Even in YGGDRASIL, certain areas of the body, when hit, would deplete one's HP more than others._

_Even though I currently have more HP than him, my stamina is almost gone, while he's just getting started at this point. Damn!_

Ethel deactivated the skill. The mirage cleared and the blade looked normal again, if such a word could apply to it.

Although the effect duration of ten seconds had not passed completely, it could be turned off with a simple mental command. The danger of keeping it on was too great — a poorly executed flourish and his arm could be severed in the blink of an eye.

Moments later, he spoke, trying his best to hide his labored breathing.

"Yes. This duel has taken far too long, and my stamina's negligible at this point, after what I just did. Even though I currently have more health than you, I simply won't be able to win if we resume and keep fighting at this pace for the aforementioned reasons. Therefore, I concede," said Ethel, approaching the cyan giant.

Gasps rang out amongst the spectators as the three words left his mouth.

"BUT LORD ETHEL, THE NATURE OF THIS LOCATION MEANT THAT THE ODDS WERE AGAINST YOU RIGHT FROM THE START!" protested Cocytus. "WHY DID YOU GIVE THIS LOWLY ONE THE ADVANTAGE?"

"Ah, so you knew. However, the Amphitheatre was the location where we had the most similar chances of winning. Any other possible location would give an overwhelming advantage for a single opponent," said Ethel.

Skin had already formed over the deep gashes on his shoulder and forearm, and the pain no longer throbbed against his head.

"The advantage you received was minimal. It was a mistake on my part to clash blades with you directly, knowing full well that your abilities with the sword are far superior to mine. I should have kept at a distance, wearing you down with repeated long-ranged attacks. However, I decided to entertain you by doing the exact opposite of that."

"I AM HUMBLED BY YOUR PRAISE, MY LORD. I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR INJURING YOU," said Cocytus, bowing as he returned his sword to his item box. "TO THINK THAT A SUPREME BEING WOULD GO TO SUCH LENGTHS FOR MY ENJOYMENT, KNOWING FULL WELL THAT IT WOULD RESULT IN HIS LOSS! I AM TRULY AWED, MY LORD."

"Raise your head. There's nothing to be sorry for."

A stunned silence had filled the arena. The first one who began to clap was Mare, whose small and ladylike hands made a stark contrast with the booming sound that rattled over the arena's grounds. The world exploded in ear-splitting applause seconds later, with what amounted to a war-cry coming from the golems who sat on all sides of the Amphitheatre.

Then, the silence returned as a lone figure leapt from the VIP lounge and landed on the sand with a thunderous impact. As the dust cleared, a voice reverberated across the pit.

"And with that, we come to the end of the duel! Although our Lord had the upper hand throughout the match, he has made a tactical retreat!" announced Aura.

 _Cocytus held back massively during the duel. There was probably no way I could have beaten him under the same conditions if he'd went all out and used a bunch of powerful skills. So much for not holding back, huh,_ thought Ethel. _Well, he did specify that we were to hold back to the maximum extent possible, so anything more than that would have seriously injured me._

"With that, I declare Cocytus to be the winner of this duel!" shouted Aura. A light applause ensued, and she leapt back into the VIP Lounge. Ethel noticed that none of the NPCs were clapping for Cocytus, and facepalmed mentally. Only Momonga was clapping loudly, whereas Herohero made a silent clapping motion by bringing together two slimy antennae. Albedo had a bitter look in her eyes for a brief moment.

The duel had begun and ended in the span of several minutes, but Ethel felt as though he'd been fighting for an hour.

"Um, I hope there won't be any problems between you and your colleagues, Cocytus," mumbled Ethel.

'THERE WILL BE NO PROBLEMS, LORD ETHEL," affirmed Cocytus. "WE GUARDIANS AND SERVANTS APOLOGIZE THAT THERE WAS NO BETTER LOCATION IN THE TOMB TO HOLD THIS DUEL."

"No need to," said Ethel. "Really."

_Well, if there's nothing else to say…I guess I should just…leave?_

Ethel cleared his throat, and the Amphitheatre fell silent in an instant.

"Amplify Voice," was the name of the fourth-tier utility spell that he cast.

Moments later, he spoke.

"I'm sorry for taking my leave in such a hurry, but I have several things to attend to. So then, this duel has ended."

_This is awkward…did I say anything wrong?_

* * *

**9th Floor, Great Tomb of Nazarick**

**Twenty Third Royal Suite**

Ethel activated the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown hidden beneath a gauntlet. His surroundings warped instantly.

Now he was surrounded by the familiar sight of massive paintings and marble walls and dreamy chandeliers. His boots stamped deep and sandy puddles in the giving red carpet as he trudged towards his room, and the vapid musk of the arena lingered around him, though it was slowly beginning to fade.

The hall was warm and silent. But, as Ethel progressed further up, he noticed that a tune was playing. It came from up ahead, beyond the bend to the right. Someone was playing a piano. The melody was haunting and a technical challenge of the highest degree, but the playing was seemingly perfect, as though it could not have been played by human hands.

Then, as quickly as he began to marvel it, the playing ceased, replaced by a light exchange of voices.

The sound of a heavy chair rolled on wheels echoed through the hallway. There was a brief tapping of shoes against marble, then silence as their owner came to a halt. Ethel passed the first rooms of the enormous hallway and turned around the bend that led to more and came to the familiar sight of a domed chamber.

To his right was a grand piano. It sparkled under the chandeliers with an ebony finish. The lid had been propped open, displaying its exquisitely crafted keys and hammers and strings. The plush chair had been gently tucked underneath the keyboard. An ivory gleam shone from ninety-seven keys of polished dragonbone.

Knelt beside the red carpet was a lone figure. Ethel recognized her at first glance. Her outfit had been altered. Gone was her armor and the Disruptor Claws. Only the cloak and her black bodysuit remained.

"Fantastic. You didn't have to stop. Also, you don't have to kneel every time I'm near you," said Ethel.

"Chacmool's doppelgangers play it better, but I must thank you for gifting me with such a unique talent," said Acheron.

 _I can't help but feel a little jealous of her. I've always wanted to play the piano_ , which was why I encoded these skills as part of her backstory and gave her a few _levels in the [Musician] job class. In the game, it allowed NPCs to play musical instruments, which was an alternative to a music box._

"Oh, your armor is damaged. I heard of what happened at the Amphitheatre. You conceded, even after you dealt the Floor Guardian ten blows that would have been fatal to me. Why did you do it, if I may ask?" asked the demon, standing. She began to follow in Ethel's stead as he continued to walk down the hallway.

"Ten blows? I did no such thing," confessed Ethel. Acheron's eyes widened.

"Was it twenty? Did the assassins lie to me?" asked Acheron.

Ethel facepalmed mentally.

"It appears that the message was gradually distorted," said Ethel. He sighed. "In truth, I managed to land less than five hits on him, while he struck me a few times as well."

"Oh. Why did you concede then? Your HP was higher than Cocytus', wasn't it?" asked Acheron.

"It was, but my stamina was extremely low. I would have been too tired to deal any damage, let alone move at my usual speeds," said Ethel. "Demons do not have infinite stamina, unlike the undead. I can only maintain such speeds for extended periods of time if you were present as my aide."

"Was that why you created me, my Lord?"

"No. However, if any invaders made it to the ninth floor, you, along with the Eight-Edge Assassins would have been deployed to face them. Specifically, you would have been tasked with healing the Eight-Edge Assassins."

 _The Disruptor Claws would be useless against any players who made it to the Ninth Floor anyways, given how they're probably going to have Divine-Class armor sets_ , thought Ethel.

"I see. In such an event, I hope the combined efforts of the Eight-Edged Assassins, the Pleiades, Sebas, the other servants of the Ninth Floor, and I would be able to buy the Supreme Ones enough time to be prepared. Or will I have the honor of fighting alongside my Creator?" asked Acheron.

_Well, it's pretty obvious that the 9th floor NPCs wouldn't stand a chance against any force that made it past them. Even though we never told this floor's NPCs that they were essentially meat shields, it's natural that they'd deduce this eventually._

_I mean, she's literally a meat-shield. I gave her a unique build so that she'd have an insanely fast HP regen rate. Her armor also gives her vastly increased regeneration. However, high-level players that specialize in instant-death magic essentially counter this. I gave her high resistances to such magic, but an elite like Momonga would probably be able to kill her, even if he were limited to only using instant-death spells._

_Then again, that wasn't part of the meta for arcane magic caster, so it's unlikely that she'd face anyone with such a build while guarding the ninth floor._

"That depends," said Ethel. "Also, my friends and I have recently decided to step out of the Tomb to investigate. Have you learned about the human civilizations my friends and I have detected in the vicinity of the Tomb?"

"Yes, Creator," said Acheron. "I was informed of this by Lord Sebas."

"And who told this to Sebas?"

"Lady Albedo," said Acheron.

"Ah, so that's how information flows. The Guardian Overseers informs the Floor Guardians, who in turn informs the Area Guardians and so on," mused Ethel. "Pretty neat."

"Creator?"

"Ah, nothing. Just a passing thought," said Ethel. "Anyways, we're here. In the future, we could go outside the Tomb together, you and I as companions. How does that sound like?"

"Me…a companion? Not as your bodyguard?"

"That too. If I am requested by Momonga-san to explore the outside world for Nazarick, you may come with me as both a companion and a personal bodyguard," said Ethel.

"That sounds grand, Creator," came the reply, and a faint smile creased her lips. But then, Ethel noticed something. "Hmm? Is there something you want to say?"

Acheron's tail had coiled around her right leg.

"Oh, I just found it odd that I have not detected any maids leaving or entering the Royal Suite Area. Did you call for them to make your room and prepare a hot bath, Creator?" asked Acheron. She cocked her head to the right.

_I completely forgot! Looks like I'll never get used to living like royalty…_

"There's no need for that. I don't want to trouble the maids," said Ethel. Acheron's eyes widened and her tail coiled tighter around her leg.

"Surely you jest, Creator. The maids were created for the sole purpose of housekeeping on the Ninth and Tenth Floors," said Acheron. "Would you like me to tend to your room in the future instead?"

"No, please don't. The maids may continue their duties in the future. Also, I will be having dinner at the cafeteria after I take a shower. You can join me if you want to," said Ethel.

"I would love to join you, but may I humbly suggest that it might not be fitting for a Supreme Being to eat at the lowly cafeteria?" said Acheron.

"Oh? Then where do you think I should have my meals?"

"Your room, Creator. Your meals can be delivered to your room by the maids. I'm sure they won't be cold by the time they reach it," said Acheron.

"I see. Well, that's convenient...Wait, do you hear that?" asked Ethel. A pair of voices came from behind them, down the hallway. Their owners were out of sight. Acheron placed a finger on her left temple. She cocked her head.

"Lord Herohero and Solution Epsilon of the Pleiades are standing outside the seventh room. Would you like to go talk to them?"

_Solution Epsilon, huh. That's the slime created by Herohero-san. She's the blonde maid with the seductive looking outfit. Are they going to do it? Then again, slimes probably reproduce asexually, like bacteria, so while Herohero may feel the need to reproduce, he might not be compelled to do so in the…traditional way._

"There's no need to. I'm sure that he's tired mentally after a long day. Oh, I forgot to ask this. What's on the dinner menu?"

"I think I remembered it correctly. First, a citrus and shaved foie gras salad, drizzled with velouté sauce made from the Noatun fish is available as the hors d'oeuvre. The soup will be a mushroom cream soup made of fresh mushrooms plucked from the heights of Niflheim, topped with generous shavings of black truffle. For the main course, a meat dish is available — an A8 ribeye steak cut from a fattened frost dragon, topped by seared foie gras, and served alongside potato wedges. As for drinks, I've been told that Lord Herohero chose a glass of red wine hours earlier. Would you like to have that?"

Ethel was speechless.

_Foie gras? What the heck is velouté sauce and hors d'oeuvre? Is that French? Also, I know about the marbling grading scale, but doesn't it only go up to A5? Even so, the higher grades are so ridiculously expensive that only those living in cushy Arcologies are able to eat it! And A6 and A7 are only achievable through genetic engineering, and they're literally worth a fortune! A8 doesn't even exist!_

"I…er…that would be excellent," said Ethel, struggling to contain his inner emotions. "But…er…wouldn't such a lavish meal be a waste of resources?"

"Hmm, it's no problem. The steaks are obtained from a dragon that's butchered and healed in an unending cycle. Since the number of steaks obtained from the dragon is limited only by the quantity of mana the healer possesses, and due to the fact that mana regenerates infinitely, Nazarick theoretically possesses an infinite number of A8 dragon steaks. In other words, it's the very definition of a sustainable activity." explained the guardian. "The same thing goes with the ducks — after they are fattened, the liver is surgically extracted and regenerated using healing magic, and the cycle restarts. I think that's how it works, but I could double-check with the chef if you want me to."

"I…wish you hadn't told me that part about the dragon," sighed Ethel.

"Does it trouble you, my Lord?" Acheron cocked her head.

"I'm not sure. I…don't really feel anything about butchering them alive, but my friends would not have wanted this. If there was a way to butcher them without causing pain, I would enjoy the steaks to an infinitely greater degree," said Ethel.

"If you would truly enjoy the steak even more, I will inform the butcher right away to cast anesthetic magic on the dragons. Also, how rare would you like your steak to be, my Lord?" asked Acheron. "And when would you like your dinner to arrive at your room?"

"Hmm, I would like it rare," said Ethel, recalling an old movie he'd watched as a child. "I would also like a cola — if you know what that is. I'll have my dinner in an hour's time."

"Understood, my Lord. I will relay your order to the Head Chef immediately," said Acheron, putting a finger to her left temple. Seconds later, she was done with the ordering and smiled.

"So, will you be here for dinner?" asked Ethel.

"Yes, Creator. However, I will be having a different meal," said Acheron.

"Hmm, why is that so?"

"I don't believe that it would be befitting of a servant to enjoy a meal of the same quality as that which her master consumes," came the reply.

"Are you really fine with that?" asked Ethel.

"I am," came the reply. "Perfectly."

"Very well then. See you in an hour's time," said Ethel. Acheron bowed. The door swung open automatically, and he stepped into the darkness, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

**Outside the Tomb**

**A Graveyard**

Momonga sighed as he stared out at the dark expanse. This was the second time he'd stepped out of the Great Tomb of Nazarick,

It was slightly over five in the morning. At least, that was what the clocks in the Great Tomb of Nazarick displayed. It was synchronized with the time in Helheim, and Helheim's time was the same as the time on Earth.

More specifically, Helheim and the other realms emulated the sunset and sunrise times in neo-Tokyo, where the company responsible for the game's development was based.

 _Which means that we should be seeing sunrise in an hour's time_ , thought Momonga. _Ha, if we're in neo-Tokyo, that is. This wilderness looks nothing like it, although the climate does resemble that of Tokyo, historically speaking. It's rather cold and there's a comfortable lack of humidity._

_Ethel suggested sending a team to orbit and taking a look at this planet from above. Herohero agreed with this suggestion. I think we could get a feel of how the continents are shaped and how large this planet is that way. Also, if we're lucky, we might be able to spot some hotspots of civilization from up there. Well, I could summon several NPCs or use pre-existing ones to go up there and sketch out the shape of the continents._

_Herohero outlined two necessary conditions that these NPCs must possess._

_First, a lack of the need for breathing. That's easy, golems, half-golems, undead, slimes, and certain demons are the only beings in Nazarick who don't need oxygen._

_Secondly, an extremely strong resistance to extreme temperatures. They'll have to be extremely resistant to the ice and fire elements, but the latter only applies when it's daytime on this planet since they would then be directly between this planet and the sun, but they'll be going to both sides so it doesn't matter._

Momonga turned to someone who stood by him. "Demiurge, I recall that Ulbert gifted you with the ability to draw and paint. Is that true?"

_I remember that time when Ulbert-san showed me Demiurge's biography._

_"A brilliant painter, sculptor, and architect. A genius artist if there ever was one."_

_It might be hypocritical of me to think this, but I thought that it was the cringiest thing I've ever read. I never thought that it'd ever come in handy…_

The demon in an orange suit spoke up immediately. "Indeed, my Lord. Is this about the orbital reconnaissance mission that Lords Ethel and Herohero have proposed?"

"It is. That is why I have gathered you and Shalltear here now. I believe you would be a good candidate for this mission, since you've confirmed your competence with the arts. Also, are you confident in your drawing abilities?"

"Humbly so, my Lord," said Demiurge.

"It is good that you are confident too. Your photographic memory will be extremely useful in this endeavor. Now then, take this," said Momonga, reaching into space. He withdrew a shiny heap of matching armor parts. The heavy suit of armor was artfully painted in a brilliant ultramarine wash and stripes of gold, and it resembled a diving suit reforged for combat purposes.

"This is a relic-class armor set designed to explore extremely hazardous regions with little to no atmospheric oxygen. The enchantment provides an infinite volume of oxygen to its wearer, and it is able to withstand truly extreme pressures, such as the inside of a volcanic caldera in Muspelheim and the deepest point in Midgard's oceans. This is a truly useful item that has served the guild well in the past. It will probably be able to withstand the vacuum and other conditions in space, but if you encounter any problems up there, you must come down immediately!" warned Momonga.

"I…" Demiurge's eyes widened. He knelt down immediately, bowing his head, and his voice quivered with emotion. "I am deeply honored to be the recipient of this suit of armor! I swear on my life that it will come back in one-piece, in the same condition from whence it had been taken!"

"Very good, Demiurge, but know that even when the value of this suit has been multiplied a thousandfold, it nevertheless will be infinitesimal in comparison to the value of your life," said Momonga.

His gaze drifted to the other grotesques who had gathered here. Seven other demons stood a few paces away. The levels of these creatures were between 80 and 90, and they had been summoned by Demiurge. They were the evil lords Wrath, Greed, Envy, Sloth, Pride, Gluttony, and Lust.

And then there was one more.

The Guild Master turned to his left to look at one of the strongest individuals in all of Nazarick.

Shalltear Bloodfallen's armor shone with a crimson gleam, and she broke into a small smile as the Overlord's gaze fell upon her.

Momonga reached into space and removed a small necklace. It consisted of dragon-skin strips fastened to a frost jewel. Before Shalltear could say anything, Momonga fastened the necklace around her thin neck, and the golden metal joints clicked into place at her nape. Shalltear blushed.

"This is a necklace that grants 60 seconds of immunity to the fire element. It has a cooldown of 30 seconds. Try not to damage it," said Momonga. Then, he reached into space and pulled out another object. Shalltear's gaze fell on what appeared to be an amulet of some kind. It was a long golden band with a large and intricately cut sapphire set in it. Momonga held it up to her right wrist, and it melted right into her armor.

"That was a valuable bracelet that increases your resistance against fire by 35%, which is an incredible amount. With it, the potent resistances to the fire element granted by your armor should be amplified greatly," said Momonga. His gaze panned over the nine grotesques who he had made into a makeshift scouting party. Demiurge had equipped the bulky suit of armor — it imposed a mobility penalty, reducing Demiurge's agility and speed by a small percentage.

"Ah, evil lords," said Momonga. The demons bowed immediately, and Momonga reached into space and brought out a large leather bag. He tossed it to evil lord Wrath, who caught it nimbly. It felt extremely light in his hands, but there were few items that did not.

"You may all stand," said Momonga. The evil lords got to their feet in unison moments later.

"Evil lord Wrath, the bag contains seven air supplies in the form of bracelets. Once activated, a thick layer of air will cover your bodies. It lasts indefinitely, regardless of external conditions, but can be easily broken by enemy attacks. Distribute them among your colleagues and leave one for yourself. Activate it as soon as you take flight," instructed Momonga. "You will protect Demiurge and Shalltear with your lives."

"Understood, lord Momonga. On the behalf of my colleagues, I thank you for your concern for our lives and generosity," growled the evil lord. It and the other demons bowed in sincere fealty.

"Now then, you must go. As quickly as you can, fly to a point in space where you are able to view the entirety of one side of the planet. Should you encounter any hostile entities at any point in your journey, retreat unless defending yourself is unavoidable. My friends and I require a drawing of the continents as quickly as possible, and of the highest possible quality achievable in such a timeframe," said Momonga. "Circle the world once and remember to return using teleportation magic only. Once you have returned, record everything that you have seen on a large sheet of parchment, Demiurge. Then, mark the location of Nazarick on the drawing. Inform me when you have returned."

The two guardians knelt in unison with their hands pressed to their hearts.

"We will not fail you, my Lord."

Their words were spoken softly, but that made it all the more convincing to Momonga that their loyalty was absolute.

Black, diaphanous wings sprouted from Demiurge's back with a sickening crack. Metal flowed from his suit of armor and coated the wings, covering it in a layer of silver feathers and steel-grey flesh, and Momonga could see that beneath his glass visor, his face had turned into something truly demonic — a countenance that embraced a fusion of frog and human features.

"I'll be expecting the news in my office, Guardians. Now then, go."

A flash of azure light hollowed out the pitch darkness of the graveyard. In Momonga's place was empty air, and the nine got to their feet.

A few moments later, Demiurge spoke first.

"You heard him, Shalltear. Failure is forbidden. Let's go."

"Of course, Demiurge-san," said the vampire. "Try to keep up~"

Her wings flapped once, and a powerful wind ripped across the graveyard. Shalltear was propelled upwards at an incredible speed, and the blur of red that was Shalltear Bloodfallen flickered out of sight in a blink of an eye.

Demiurge frowned as he followed suit, catching up to her with a few flaps of his wings. As a vampire, it was natural for her pride to show on some occasions. He took no offense at the jab, but the Supreme Ones might not be so forgiving.

The evil lords trailed behind him. Wrath took the lead with a few flaps of his mighty wings that rendered him out of sight in an instant. The other demons trailed behind him, and as the air grew thinner, they began to activate the bracelet that Momonga had given them. Of course, they were able to hold their breath for more than a dozen hours in one go, but Momonga had told them beforehand that such a tactic could not work in outer space.

Shalltear did not dare to say so, but she felt that Demiurge looked rather fat in the armor. The juxtaposition of his slim, hard-angled face against the thick rounded armor plating was hilarious to watch. Frost had begun to form on his visor, and the demon had to wipe it away intermittently. It was warm in the armor, and with his ice elemental immunity, Demiurge did not feel a thing.

It was extremely comfortable inside the suit of armor. Every inch of its interiors had been fitted with plush cushions, and there was even a HUD on the visor that told Demiurge the exterior temperature, which, after several minutes of flying, stood at -95.5 degrees Celsius. Other quantities such as wind speed and pressure were neatly displayed near the edges of his visor.

Demiurge was curious as to how they were derived. He fancied pulling apart the suit and extracting its delicate electronics, but that would certainly displease the Supreme Beings. Moreover, he would not know how to put it back together.

He wondered if such quantities were derived not using the cold, unforgiving mechanics of the material universe, but through magical means.

It seemed to him that such questions had to be answered in the future, one way or another.

•

It had been a little over fifteen minutes of continuous flight. Or rather, most of it had been spent gliding weightlessly after reaching outer space in under six minutes.

In space, it was common sense that one couldn't start flying with a flap of their wings. Spells like [Fly] had to be used. In the microgravity environment of outer-space, the constant acceleration provided by a small mana cost snowballed into immense velocities that allowed the nine to reach their target altitude in a matter of minutes. And, since acceleration with [Fly] cost a minute investment of mana in relation to the extreme velocities that were attained, this was a viable strategy.

All they had to do to stop moving was to provide thrust in the opposite direction, decelerating in the process, and coming to a complete halt.

The nine hovered a little over four hundred kilometers above the Great Tomb of Nazarick. The journey had been silent for the most part, but Demiurge was reluctantly dragged into a conversation about Momonga's pelvis with Shalltear.

Demiurge now stared at the vast orb of blue and green and occasionally brown beneath him. He could nearly see its edges. He glanced at the visor's HUD. The oxygen content outside was zero, and so was the wind speed.

"I think this is enough, Shalltear. I can get a good view of all the continents on this side of the world. How peculiar indeed, as all of the continents appear to be fused into a supercontinent," said Demiurge. They had not spoken in a while.

Sensing no reply from the vampire, who hovered midair a few feet ahead of him, Demiurge called out her name.

"Shalltear, are you listening?"

There was still no response.

\+ Shalltear? +

\+ Ah? I was about to send a message to you. Can you not hear me? +

Demiurge made no reply as he fell into deep rumination.

\+ Demiurge-san? + came her voice.

\+ Oh, sorry about that. I think I have a clue as to why we cannot hear each other if we speak normally, + said Demiurge.

\+ And what may that be? + asked Shalltear inquisitively. She floated down to him and hovered beside the demon.

\+ Sound waves cannot propagate here as there is no atmosphere, + said Demiurge. + We are in a vacuum, after all. How does it feel out there? +

\+ Well, I don't feel much different than before. Is it comfortable in that armor? + asked Shalltear.

\+ Very much so. It feels warm and cozy in here, + said Demiurge.

\+ Oh? What does it smell like in there? +

\+ What? + asked Demiurge, visibly confused. He sniffed the air. + It doesn't smell like anything, really. +

\+ Oh, + said Shalltear dejectedly. + Nevermind then...+

\+ But my, this is truly a strange world that we have landed upon. This massive continent to the left of Nazarick greatly resembles an arrowhead. To the lower right side of this continent is a massive island. And what about this truly enormous continent that sits to the right of Nazarick? +

\+ I don't see what's so special about that...though I would have preferred it if Nazarick had been teleported to that icy area above, + said Shalltear.

\+ That would be a more strategic location, as it's true that humans cannot survive for long in the cold. Good thinking, Shalltear, + said Demiurge.

Shalltear smiled sheepishly at the praise, though she had wished so for a completely different reason.

\+ Alright, let's head to the other end of this planet. Though, the temperatures might be higher there, so be prepared to teleport away at the first sign of trouble, + said Demiurge. Shalltear nodded in agreement.

The nine gradually shifted into an arrowhead formation with Shalltear at its lead. They blasted off in the void, gradually reaching speeds that the naked eye would struggle to follow from kilometers away.

* * *

**9th Floor, Great Tomb of Nazarick**

**Twenty Third Royal Suite**

The water that rained on him was freezing cold, but Ethel paid it no mind. His back was curled, and his spine showed through his unhealthily pale skin. His legs were arched, his wings rested on the floor, and his face was pressed into his knees. His lank black hair was draped across them, and Ethel wrapped his long, bony arms around his legs.

For twenty-five long years, a steam bath was all he ever received. A short one, at that. Every unit in the sprawling apartment complex he resided in was limited to three minutes of continuous bathing.

 _Absolutely disgusting_ , thought Ethel. Most of the time, the steam couldn't reach into every nook and cranny of his body. And there wasn't any soap, either. His skin would be rendered a sloppy, oily mess after he bathed.

If only he could have the satisfaction of cleaning his old body. This body was dirtied during the duel, but it was nothing compared to the absolute filth that had gathered on his old one.

There was plenty of soap here in Nazarick, and there was an infinite water supply somewhere in the Tomb. He wasn't too enthusiastic about the floral scent that the soap bar gave off, but it was still soap.

He reached upwards and closed the silver tap with a wing, and the flow of water stemmed immediately.

For some time now, he'd been practicing the use of his wings as a pair of extra arms. They were, after all, extremely long fingers that were connected by a thin membrane. They had been included as part of the [Night Gaunt] racial class and were a tier above the imp wings. As Ethel shared this racial class with Acheron, their wings were identical, if not of slightly different size.

A disadvantage was that those who invested in the [Night Gaunt] racial class were no longer able to specialize in the other top tier demon racial classes such as [Archdevil] and [Lightbringer], which all had more powerful wings that required less stamina to use. But this pair had a higher speed limit, and, in his opinion, it looked cooler. That was one of the reasons that Ethel had specialized in this racial class in the first place.

Ethel rose slowly from the luminous marble floor. He glanced around at the bathroom through the cubicle's veil of glass. Its floors shone with an ivory-white gleam of marble, and the walls were marble too. It seemed as though the entire room had been made of marble, one way or another.

A thick white mat lined the floor, leading to a marble bench. A steel bar looped through the glass door of the cubicle, and a thick white towel hung from it.

_Now that I think about it, I can't help but feel sorry for any other guilds who got transported here. Given how the majority of guild bases were solely optimized for combat, their rulers probably never bothered to build any of the fancy roleplaying facilities we have here in Nazarick. We have a Spa Resort, a library, a farm, a courthouse, a theatre, staff canteen, bar, restaurant, and all kinds of facilities optimized towards living in this new world._

_Or at least, that's how I'd imagine most guild bases to look like, based on the dozens of bases we've raided and defeated in the past_ , thought Ethel.

He grabbed the towel and began to dry himself with it, soaking the water from his skin.

_Also, Demiurge and Shalltear should be in space right now. By knowing what this planet looks like, we're able to better understand our situation. Perhaps the cartographer NPC might be able to create a world map as well._

Ethel rested his hands on the black marble table-top and stared into the mirror. A pale face, whose androgyny and long, shoulder-length hair made it seem like a woman's at first glance, stared back. Without the wings, he might have resembled some albino breed of elf with his knife-like ears.

He was more similar to the undead than the living — he had no need to breath and couldn't reproduce. He too had an emotional limiter, and he was ageless.

Ethel sighed and looked down at his arm. An hour or so ago, it had been cut to the bone by the impossibly sharp _God Slaying Emperor Blade_. Now, the wound had completely healed, and there was not a semblance of scar tissue.

The same went for his shoulder. Theoretically, it might be possible for him to regenerate any wound that did not kill him outright. Given enough time, that is.

He did not want to test that theory.

The door of the bathroom opened silently, and he stepped into the pitch darkness of his room dressed in only a bathrobe. Ethel activated the lamps with a simple mental command, and the room was flooded in light.

He grabbed a lock of hair and straightened it down his shoulders. Then, he reached into space. Although there were many in the guild who had dozens of outfits, Ethel was not one of them. As he reached into space, he searched for the only other outfit he had.

It resembled Sebas' butler uniform, only this time it was even slimmer and tapered around the waist. The suit had been neatly pressed, and its clean fabric was as dark as night, and Ethel's black leather shoes gave off a polished gleam. As a relic-class item, it boasted respectable defense and even granted a regeneration buff — at the cost of agility and speed. It was inconceivable for Ethel to wear this to battle, but they were perfect for almost every other setting.

Just then, a faint knock could be heard on the door. The suit vanished and he was clothed the next moment, undergarments and all. Gingerly, he walked towards the door and turned on the cold handle. The bolt slid out with a mechanical snap, and Ethel pulled slowly on the door.

Standing beyond the doorway was the creature he'd waved goodbye to an hour ago, but her outfit had changed completely. How could he forget it? It was the most valuable outfit he'd placed in her inventory. Acheron was wearing a beautiful red dress that was embroidered with silver ornamentation. A pair of flat-heeled shoes peeked out from under its hems and sparkled like black tourmaline. Her hands were empty.

To her left, a troupe of seven maids flanked a large silver trolley. The ones on the side looked completely human, but Ethel jumped in his skin the moment he laid eyes on the figure who stood in front. She had the grotesque face of a dog, but this was no masquerade.

He recognized her as the head maid but did not know her name, and simply stared at her impassively as she and her colleagues knelt before him.

"My name is Pestonya Shortcake Wanko. Woof! We have brought your meals, Supreme One, and Area Guardian of the Royal Suites. Woof!" said the maid.

"Thank you," muttered Ethel, unsure of how exactly to respond. "Please stand."

He stepped out of his room and allowed the maids to pass. It was silent for the most part as they carried the meals from the trolley and set them on the mahogany table, but not before laying a pristine white tablecloth upon it. They laid the plates with no sound at all and moved with an inhuman deftness unmatched by any maid or butler.

Ethel glanced at the creature standing beside him. She shifted subtly under his gaze.

_Truth be told, when my friends began to create outfits for their NPCs, I was more than willing to follow along. I've always wanted a pair of new, comfortable clothes in real life, but I simply couldn't afford anything. That's why I made you so many outfits. I wanted to give you the best life possible. And that's what I'll do everything in my power to strive for in the future._

"Creator?"

"Hmm? What is it?" asked Ethel.

"I had a feeling that you felt awfully sad for a moment there," remarked Acheron.

"You may be correct there. Seeing you in this outfit reminded me of something…" said Ethel, his voice drifting off at the last part. "An ideal, I think. I will not let your existence be a tragedy."

Acheron did not know how to respond. She thought that it was a rather odd thing that her Creator would say. After all, why would any creator want the opposite? And why did he substitute 'life' with 'existence'? What did he even mean by that?

"Enough rambling, I guess. We have many things to discuss during dinner, about this upcoming mission, and about this world," said Ethel. The maids had finished setting up the table. "Let's go."

* * *

**South of Nazarick**

Nine beings hovered silently above the other side of the world.

They had arrived as quickly as they could, soaring through the void at speeds that few were capable of.

But their ascension had not gone unnoticed. Halfway across the world, far above a silent city, something was listening patiently.

There was nothing but silence at first. It had been hours after it begun that it heard something.

At first, it had sounded like an explosion in the distance. Then an ear-splitting thunder, amplified ninefold. Nine creatures in total, one taking off after the other. They were exploring because they had to.

Hundreds of kilometers away, the sound was imperceptible to human ears, but to the creature perched atop the castle that shadowed Eryuentiu, the sound was unmistakable. These were vibrations in the air that only he could discern, a pulse of tainted arcana that only he could sense. They were the sins of his father, and the magic that had spiked in intensity hours before belonged to his bloodline, after all.

The seventh wave. This was the worst it had ever been. Worse than even…

No. It did not dare to think, to compare exactly. But in terms of size, a group of nine players was the largest of invasions to date.

The Council would be informed. They had to be. Powerful as he was, this was not a threat he could face on his own.

The Platinum Dragonlord reared back his head and roared.


End file.
